


Mirror Images

by Toxic_Waste



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Be Careful What You Wish For, Bodyswap, F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Internal Conflict, POV Second Person, Phindace, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-05-20 00:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 84,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14883797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toxic_Waste/pseuds/Toxic_Waste
Summary: Life isn't fair, and Candace is about fed up with the obviously biased division of the luck in her family. If only there was some way she could be the one to get all the luck and have things fall into place for her the way they always seem to do for her brothers.Even if only for a single day - that's all it would take, probably, given just how darn lucky Phineas and Ferb seem to be sometimes.If only.





	1. Be Careful What You Wish For

**Author's Note:**

> The commencement of new project - and one written in second person, no less. What is this? I don't know, but it's going to be fun to write nonetheless. I've never written in this particular perspective before, but there's a first time for everything, and this is going to be mine for second person.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.

There may have been a whole lot of bad days in the past, but one thing is sure: _today_ – today is the worst day of your life.

It’s the worst day for many reasons, like your bad days always are. Unlike most of the rest of them, though, it’s not your worries about Jeremy, or even yet another failed attempt to bust your brothers. Mainly, it’s just the fact that you’re a girl. Both on the inside, and on the outside.

At least, you were last night.

Incidentally, you also went to bed in your own room, hugging Ducky Momo tightly to your chest, muttering angry things into the darkness of your room. Angry because, even though you didn’t do _anything_ wrong, somehow Mom and Dad got the idea that the intimate get-together was a ‘party’, even after you insisted that it wasn’t. And then they grounded you.

What are you supposed to do while grounded, exactly? There are _things_ you have to do – important things, too! Phineas and Ferb won’t bust themselves, after all. (You know they won’t – you’ve tried.) You’ve already got a date with Jeremy lined up for next Saturday, too – that’s also important. And Stacy’s gonna want do stuff, you’re well aware.

But no, somehow, the _one time_ you’re even vaguely responsible for something getting even the littlest bit out of hand, you get instantly grounded for a week. Did your brothers get in trouble for that tower to the Moon, or the time they literally brought your future self back to meet you? No, no, of course not. And the stupid Mysterious Force did nothing to protect _you_.

All you can really do is hope that maybe Mom and Dad’ll, like, forget they grounded you or something, but that’s… not gonna happen, is it?

How _come_ everything works out for your brothers, but it just seems like it all backfires and explodes the second you touch anything? What is the logic there? Not that ‘logic’ seems to be all it’s cracked up to be in your life anyhow. All you have to do is look out in the backyard every day to see that.

Even so, despite the fact that you’ve been trying and failing to bust those two all summer so far, something about _you_ being the one who got in trouble is really just too much to handle. It’s not like you can really do anything about the Mysterious Force, it kinda just… does whatever it feels like? At least, if there’s a way to get it to help you – or least stop protecting your brothers – you haven’t found it yet.

Not that you should _have_ to deal with this at all. Do other older sisters have to deal with this kinda thing? Not hardly. Stacy’s got Ginger, after all. Why can’t your brothers be more like Ginger? _Ginger_ doesn’t build… build freakin’ giant contraptions of doom and destruction or whatever. You’re about ready to chop off your own arm, if it’ll just get Phineas and Ferb to _stop_ , but you know well enough that you could chop them both off and eat them, and those two would _never_ stop, not ever, not for anything.

Because nothing ever works out for you.

And, of course, everything works out for your brothers. Literally everything. Phineas is going to turn twelve this year, and as far back as you can remember, you’ve pretty much _never_ seen him fail, at least not more than little bitty things that, ultimately, don’t matter that much because he always gets what he wants anyhow.

You? You have to work and fight and suffer for every single good thing that happens to you. Him? All he gets are teeny weeny little speedbumps that, really, wouldn’t even slow down a wheelchair. It’s just not _fair_ – he gets all the luck, and the friends, and the everything else, and what do you get? A long neck?

Well, it _is_ freakishly long. It’s a wonder that Jeremy thinks you’re pretty at all because of it. Sometimes you do wonder if he’s just saying that… he would be nice enough to do that, probably, even if he thought it was hideous.

You swallow hard, trying not to fall too hard into even more disturbing thoughts – there are enough on your plate as it is right now. Like the fact that your life is practically coming apart at the seams, and that not only are you _grounded_ , for some undetermined length of time that is probably gonna a week, based on last time, you’re grounded for something you didn’t even _do_ , not this time.

And, of course, it wasn’t your brothers either, because the _one time_ Mom sees anything they’ve done, it’s not even really their fault either… you’re not sure who’s fault it is, exactly, but one thing’s for sure: it’s not _yours_ , and you _shouldn’t_ be grounded over it.

Yet, here you are, and there your brothers are, and if that doesn’t say something about the way things work around here, you’re not sure what does.

If only you had an _ounce_ of the kind of good luck Phineas seems to get heaped at his feet every single day, heck, there’d be just about nothing you couldn’t do? You work way harder for things than he does, that’s for sure. If you could just get _ahold_ , somehow, of his luck – everything would be yours. They’d definitely be busted, that’s for sure. Since when has the Mysterious Force ever picked on anyone but you anyway?

But no, you’re you, and so you get to suffer endlessly – at the Mysterious Force, at Jeremy’s little sister, at your brother’s inventions. Even the thoughts of it are quite enough to send shivers down your spine, and you’re already dreading what tomorrow might bring.

Then again, you _are_ grounded.

Really, at the end of the day, it just isn’t _fair_ , and that’s the best way you know to put it. If, for just one freakin’ day, you could get the kind of luck and good fortune that your brothers get, you could do _so much_.

Ducky Momo doesn’t say anything back any of your complaints, of course, but he stares at you with that plaintive face that, despite the fact you can barely see it in the darkness, somehow makes you feel a little better. Ducky Momo has a way of doing that, though, so you’re not surprised.

If only he could do more than provide mute comfort. If only – but your entire life so far has been ‘if only’, hasn’t it? Frankly, as you snuggle deeper under the covers and adjust your pajamas to get that wrinkled bit out from beneath your spine, you expect nothing less by now.

Which is the reason why, when your eyes pop open the next morning, you’re so out of your element that it takes some time for you to even realize what’s going on. Why’d you wake up before your alarm went off anyway? Or maybe it’s later – did you sleep through it again? Really, you ought to change to something that you _know_ will wake you up. Maybe your brother’s annoying catchphrase.

“I know what we’re going to do today,” you mutter under your breath, scowling, dragging yourself to a sitting position in bed.

...and now you’re in your brother’s bed. Somehow.

Okay, _what_ is going on here? Definitely in Phineas’ bed – but then were in the heck is Phineas, anyway? Instinctively, you clench your fists. _Somebody_ is getting busted for this, right here, right now. Slamming pies into your face is one thing, but _nobody_ moves you out of your own bed when you’re sleeping.

You shove Phineas’ covers aside, take one step out onto the bedroom floor – and promptly all the breath in your lungs lurches out of you like you’ve been punched in the stomach again, and you slip on something or the other, tumbling painfully to the floor in a pile of elbows and knees.

You’re not wearing your own pajamas anymore. There are your _brother’s_ pajamas. But that’s not it, either. Your heart is pounding as you reach up and gingerly feel your own face. What you feel is… not your own face. You’re fairly certain your own nose isn’t that large, and it isn’t shaped like that either. Running your tongue over the back of your teeth, there’s a conspicuous lack of the two permanent retainers left over from when you had your braces out.

Something is very, very wrong, and think you know what’s happened, even before you suddenly get the idea to just look in the mirror. It’s only right across the room – all you really have to do is turn your head a little bit.

It’s not your face that looks back.

“PHINEAS!” you shout on instinct, a familiar panic seizing your body. Your voice sounds strange even to your own ears, mostly your brother’s but also somehow… not quite. Belatedly, you also realize that in this case, you’ve essentially just yelled for yourself.

Because, somehow, you’ve woken up in your littlest brother’s body, this morning. It’s not even seven, according to the clock – you’re still not sure how you woke up this early – and the day is already ruined. Thankfully, you have _two_ brothers.

As quickly as you can, you cross the bedroom floor and grab ahold of Ferb’s arms, shaking vigorously. “Ferb! Ferb! Boy, you wake up _right now_ , or I swear I’m going to drag you out onto this floor!”

He blinks, like, one time, but doesn’t move. You _would_ drag him out onto the floor, too, but he’s a lot heavier than you remember. Grabbing the bottom of the bedcovers, you whisk them off, hurling them into a heap on the floor. Something heavy hits the floor too, with a muffled thump.

Oh – it’s the meat brick, looking stupidly dazed as always. How do your brothers sleep with that smelly thing, anyway?

Doesn’t matter. Ferb is waking up right _now_ , darnit, whether he wants to or not, because _you’re_ his older sister, and _you_ said so! And also because, hoo boy, do he and Phineas have some explaining to do. This is – this is _too_ far. (And where _is_ Phineas, anyway?)

“Get _up_ ,” you growl in your best threatening tone, trying to ignore the fact that it falls fairly flat with your _brother’s_ voice behind it. Also trying to ignore the fact that you _are_ your brother. Because none of this is happening, not on your watch. “I swear, Ferb, you lazy twerp, I’m going to hurt you if you-”

You stop midway through the sentence, abruptly realizing that he _is_ awake – awake and staring at you, in that way he does. So is Perry, for that matter, but you couldn’t care less about the platypus right now.

“Well?” you demand, putting your hands on your hips. “Care to explain yourself?” Actually, on second thought, you really don’t care what explanation he might have. Maybe you will _later_ , when you get your own body again, but not right now. “Get your behind out of this bed _right now_ ,” you order, trying to channel just as much of your oldest-sibling-authority as you can. “And do your little magic trick or whatever it is you and Phineas do, and change me back, _right now_. Or so help me, I will…” You’re not sure _what_ you’ll do, not exactly, but it’ll be something. Something bad, so he’d definitely better change you back right away.

Instead, though, he does absolutely nothing. As usual. Well, he did blink, like, once or twice, but he knows good and well that you can’t read his mind the way your brother does.

Only a moment too late do you realize it – that he thinks you’re Phineas. Which you are decidely _not_ , despite whatever… whatever waking up in his body meant, which obviously is nothing.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you snap, your voice short with irritation. “Do you _really_ think I’m Phineas? No! Sheesh – surely you remember what happened with me and Perry, what was it, last month? With those teleporting things?” You’re still a little bit sour on that one. Being fed by your boyfriend is fine – and kind of adorable, if you think about it – but being fed _worms and insect larvae_ , all while Mom showed him those stupid pictures of you in diapers as a baby? No thanks. (You really ought to sneak those pictures out of there one day and, like, burn them or something.)

“Candace?” your brother says – _finally_ saying something, even if it’s nothing helpful at all.

“Yes, Candace,” you retort. “Who else do you think it is? No, no, I don’t care. Just get me _back_ , you hear? And do it _right now_ , too. I would _much_ rather be grounded than be… Phineas, I guess?”

Ferb blinks at you, not saying _anything_ , and it’s all you can do to not storm off right now. It’s only the fact that he’s the only one who can _fix_ all this that keeps you from walking out and slamming the bedroom door behind you. Why does it have to be _Ferb_ anyway – at least if it was your other brother, he’d actually _talk_ to you about things. Instead of just sitting there like a rock.

Sighing, you rapidly tap your bare foot on the floor. “Are you waiting for, like, a sign or something?” you burst, unable to contain it any longer. “’cause I’ll give you one right _now,_ and I promise you you won’t like it, either!” He _can_ fix this, can’t he?

Eh, of course he can. What _can’t_ your brothers do, after all? That’s hardly a surprise by this point. Summer’s only a little more than halfway over by now, and it’s already been the longest one of your life.

“Where is Phineas?” Ferb suddenly asks, dropping the question like you and he were having an intense discussion – like you, of all people, would know.

“Well, _I_ certainly don’t know,” you spit back, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Oh, wait, I _do_ Huh, would you look at that? Right here. Because _I’m_ him, even though I shouldn’t be – and _you’re_ the one who’s gonna do something about that.” You hesitate for a moment, still not very comforted by the fact that he’s hardly moved aside from propping himself up on his elbow as he stares at you like you’re some kind of freak. “Right?”

He doesn’t say anything – of course, talking to Ferb is about impossible anyway – but just reaches out to you instead. Or rather, _past_ you, as he continues pointing while you sidestep to avoid letting him touch you...r body. Current body, even, because it’s not certainly not _yours_ , wherever yours is right-

All at once the realization stabs you in the gut, and for the second time this morning, you’re feeling like you just cannot breathe. ‘Where’s Phineas’ - where Ferb is pointing, which is, of course, in the direction of… _your room_.

The room where you went to sleep so angrily last night.

Your eyes narrow.

_Please no_.

It hadn’t even occurred to you, honestly, even though given what happened with Perry earlier on in the summer, maybe you should’ve seen it coming. Suddenly whatever Ferb was going to say – or not say, knowing him – seems considerably less important, and you’re possessed with a burning sort of anger mixed with equal parts of fear and morbid curiousity.

Now you _do_ storm out of your brothers’ bedroom, and you _do_ slam the door behind you, because darnit, it feels good and who’s going to stop you anyway? Your own bedroom door is just a few feet down the hall, and though you’re not used to having to reach _up_ to get at the doorknob, that isn’t going to stop you – not now.

The instant the door swings open, though, you freeze, catching a glimpse of your bed. Of yourself sleeping on it, one of your hands dangling limply over the side of the mattress as you snore loudly.

“PHINEAS!” you yell again, on instinct, springing forwards and grabbing ahold of the hanging hand, yanking on it as hard as you can. It’s considerably heavier than you remember being – you’re not getting fat, are you? – but you still manage to pull until your own head and shoulders appear over the side of the bed, your orange hair hanging down messily in front of your face as you slowly blink and then yawn loudly.

The urge to smack yourself – your _actual_ body – right across the face is _strong_ right now, and especially if it turns that it _is_ your brother in there, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to resist that urge for long.

“Up! Up! Up!” you settle for exclaiming instead, shaking the hand and arm you’re still hanging onto vigorously. “Now, or I swear I will smack you into next _week_!” You’ve never wanted to see yourself smacked quite so much – it is a rather strange feeling.

You – your body, rather – yawns again, as if you have all the time in the world for that sort of thing. Why is everyone in slow motion this morning anyway? _You’re_ the one who woke up way earlier than normal, and yet here you are, the only one who’s trying to get _anything_ done at _all_.

“Good morning,” you hear your own voice come, still thick with drowsiness. “Phin-” An awkward pause in the middle of the word, and you move your hands back to your hips again, rolling your eyes. “Wait, what? Ferb, I – I think something’s… a little strange? Whoa. Am I dreaming or something?”

“Oh, something has gone _very_ strange,” you respond. “And trust me, no one wishes they were dreaming right now more than I do. But _I’m_ not, and _you’re_ not, so what you’re gonna do is get yourself up _out_ of my bed this instant and also out of my _body_ while you’re at it. Do you hear me?”

Phineas and Ferb kind of… never listen to you anyway, but you’re hoping that if you just bluff like you do every day, they’ll do what you say which they… don’t do every day, no, but this – this is _different_. They have to listen to you on _this_ , surely.

“I’m what now?” Phineas-in-your-body pulls himself into a sitting position on the bed – _your_ bed, even. He looks down at you, then down at his own hands – which, again, are technically _your_ hands. Reaching up, he runs his hands through his hair with a sort of shell-shocked expression as he stares into your vanity mirror. “Whoa. I’m – I’m you. I mean, I’m still _me_ , obviously, but I’m you!”

“Yes.” You wonder whether he can even hear the sarcasm in your voice, and if he hears it, if he even understands it at all. Being in your body isn’t going to change his _mind_ , though, so you’re betting on ‘no’. “I’m glad you’ve _noticed_. Wow, what a shocking surprise it must be.” You tap your foot impatiently on the carpet. “Now if you don’t _mind_ , you and Ferb-” you jerk your thumb back in the direction of the boys’ bedroom “-have a lot of work to do _fixing_ this. And you’d better get on it, too, or I swear I will find _something_ to bust your for, somehow.”

Phineas isn’t even listening, though. You can tell by the way he’s staring off into space, not paying you any mind at all.

“This is so cool,” her murmurs under his breath, looking down at his hands as if he’s never seen your hands before in his life. Flinging his legs out over the side of the bed, he goes to stand, proceeding to stagger dramatically across the room and stumble into the wall. Leaning on it, he turns back to you. “Whoa! I’m so tall now! Check it out! What is this, like six feet or something? Look at me! Hang on, lemme get my balance – this is awesome. Hey down there, short stuff!”

You grit your teeth and clench your fists, desperately willing yourself to not say something you’ll regret. “Yes,” you hiss out instead. “So very tall, you are. Don’t forget you’re tall because you’re in _my_ b- HEY!”

He’s suddenly put his hands under your arms and lifted you clear up off the ground in a single motion, a stupid grin on his face. “Check out how strong I am! I can just go, like, _whoop_ , and up you go! Wow, this is so neat! Where’s Ferb anyway?”

“It is _not_ neat!” you snap, kicking at the air, struggling to wriggle out of his grip. “You put me down right now, you hear! Down! Down!” He plunks you down on your bed, crossing the room to stare at his reflection in your vanity mirror from about two inches away.

“How did this even _happen_?” he asks, suddenly turning back to you.

Sliding off your bed and back onto the floor with a thump – it’s farther down than you remembered – you cross your arms again. “That’s what _you’re_ supposed to know. You’re the resident genius, aren’t you?” He’d better not be hoping that _you_ know, or thinking that _you_ had anything at all to do with this. More importantly, he’d better know how to _fix_ this, too. You have a life, and of all the things that it _does_ involve, it most certainly does not involve being your own little brother.

“I…” he reaches up and scratches the top of his head, then glances over at the bedroom’s entrance. “Oh! Ferb! Have you seen what happened to-”

“He knows,” you interrupt flatly, shooting a glare at your other brother. “As he would, since, you know, I woke up _in your bed_ this morning.” But that doesn’t matter – at least, it isn’t what matters most right now. The most _important_ thing is getting your two brothers actually do something useful for once and get you _back_ to your own body. If they can do that, then maybe you’ll even let the whole ‘waking up in the wrong bed’ thing slide.

You really _are_ the best big sister in that way.

“Oh, cool,” Phineas beams, even as you continue glaring at him. “Check it out Ferb, have you seen how thall I am – how strong I am? I can pick up Candace like it’s nothing, I mean, she’s in my body, but it’s so _light_ – wait, Candace, is that how you always feel?”

You deadpan. “I have picked you up before, you know that, right? It’s not hard.”

“She also wrestled that alligator,” Ferb comments, finally saying something, even though it’s hardly _helpful_ in this situation. But you _did_ do that, after all, so you nod anyway.

“Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten about that,” Phineas says thoughtfully, pushing his hair out of his face with a sort of flippant carelessness that makes you cringe. He’s probably not planning on brushing it either, is he? Not that it matters, because you fully intend to be back in your own body, with your own hair, long before _that_ ever becomes a problem. “That was so cool, too. And now _I_ could do it, if I wanted. I mean, have you seen how thall I am? I feel like I’m standing up on stilts. Look at me thrying tho walk!” He sticks out both arms and takes several staggering steps, before stopping to laugh as if there’s just all the time in the world for playing around. Maybe you ought to _remind_ him that, no, no there really _isn’t_. “Crazy, right? I wonder if-”

Okay, now you’ve had quite enough. “You wanna know what’s _really_ crazy?” You’re almost shouting by now. “The fact that, right now, _my_ entire day is ruined because I had to wake up at the freakin’ buttcrack of dawn to find out that you, just, switched our bodies for some reason? I don’t _care_ why, either, just change me back _right now_ , you hear?”

It feels sort of strange to try and intimidate someone who’s towering up almost twice your height. It’s been a long time since anyone has been more than a few inches taller you, so having to actually _look up_ like you’re having to now… you don’t like it, not really.

Phineas, of course, hardly seems perturbed in the slightest, not by your words or warnings or even the fact that he’s literally _in your body_. You’ve often wondered if he knows how to take _anything_ seriously. It seems that the answer is no, no he does not.

What else is new?

“That’s thrue,” Phineas muses. He taps the bottom of his chin and his face lights up. “Ferb, I know what we’re going tho do thoday – thoday?” He grimaces for a moment. “ _Today_.” Turning back to look into the vanity mirror, he opens his mouth wide and studies his reflection intently for a second or two. “Oh, Candace, it’s your retainers. I’d forgotten you had them. Guess I’ll have to get used tho thalking with ‘em stuck to back of my theeth. Neat.”

“Yes, absolutely enthralling,” you drawl. “Because I’m sure my retainers are just the whole key to this thing, aren’t they? They’re what’s gonna switch us back, hmm? You can color me surprised at _that_ one.”

You can feel Ferb staring at you – from right at your eye-level, too, which is more disconcerting than it has any right to be – but your words fly right over Phineas’ head. As they would, of course.

“No, I don’t think there’s any connection there,” he brushes you off carelessly. “Did you do this Ferb? ‘cause I know _I_ wasn’t doing anything last night that could’ve feasibly made us, you know, switch bodies and all.”

Ferb shakes his head, and you throw your arms up in exasperation. “Oh, great! Great! _Great_! So you’re telling me that _only_ am I stuck in my nerdy brother’s body, but no one even seems to know how it _happened_! This – this is _definitely_ how I wanted to start today, yeah! Boy, isn’t everything just going wonderfully so far!”

Phineas frowns. “Don’t worry, Candace. We’ll figure it out – it can’t be too hard, right Ferb? I’m thinking something like a teleportation matrix or… eh, something of that sort ought to the trick. Maybe harness some of that good old spooky action at a distance, if you know what I’m saying?

“No,” you shoot back, glaring as hard as you can. “No I do _not_ know what you’re saying, nor do I _care_ to. What I _care_ about right now is getting back in my _own freaking body_! What’s so hard to understand about this?! Get a move on, will you?” Really, you have no idea why everyone seems to be dragging their feet this morning with doing anything. Phineas and Ferb are _always_ up bright and early, forcing you to get up equally early or miss perfectly good busting opportunities. Busting is more important than sleep, of course, but you would appreciate the latter too, and they just don’t seem to _get_ that.

Blinking once or twice, Phineas yawns again, and stretches until you can just about hear his back popping. “Wow. I’m drowsy this morning – and it’s past seven o’clock too. I _am_ behind this morning, aren’t I?”

“Finally,” you mutter.

“Don’t worry, Candace,” he continues. “We’ll just get into day-clothes and eat breakfast, and then head out first thing into the backyard and get right on it. It’s what we’re doing thoday, after all.”

You can feel your eyes open wider as a thought pops into your head. _Day-clothes_. Oh, crud. This is… not how you intended to start this day, and it just keeps getting worse, too. There is _no_ way you’re having your own little brother see you in your underwear – even _if_ it’s ‘just’ your body without your mind. Nor do you particularly want to see _him_ in his underwear either. “Yeah, that changing thing,” you decide firmly, crossing your arms and shaking your head. “Let’s _not_ do that, you hear? Today is just going to be a pajama day – and it’s going to _be_ that way until you two get us switched back.”

Phineas tilts his head. “Oh, right, I… hadn’t thought of that. Hmm. Well, I suppose pajama day works for me anyway.” He grins. “I don’t think anyone else’ll mind, given the circumstances, you know?”

“This isn’t a _joke_ , Phineas,” you growl. “And you are going to be _so_ busted, too, you hear me?” The moment they switch you back, of course. You’re not… really confident in the Mysterious Force to not utterly screw you over after last night, and definitely don’t want anything happening to make an already bad situation worse somehow. It’s not clear how this _could_ get worse, really, but adding the Force to the mix will manage it somehow, you know perfectly well from experience.

First, they switch you back. Then, you bust them. Third, well, you’re not quite sure what you’ll do after that. You don’t usually get that far. Maybe Jeremy will be so impressed he’ll propose to you on the spot or something. That’d be nice. Or Mom and Dad will at least give you more allowance every week. That’d be nice, too.

“Right.” Phineas nods, then blinks, struggling to hold back a yawn. “Wow. I definitely need some breakfast in me anyway. I feel like I only just got to sleep or something. Eating something might help… get back in the game, you know? And then we’ll be ready to rock and roll and get to solving this mystery.”

He smiles in what is… probably meant to some sort of vaguely cheerful gesture, but it really doesn’t lift _your_ spirits at all. Not when you’re too busy realizing that your _brother_ just called something a ‘mystery’, which… well, you’re not sure what that means for you, specifically, but you’re quite sure that you don’t want to find out, either.

Still, you grudgingly follow him and Ferb out of your room, because what else can you do by this point? Running to try and show Mom would just bring the Force into things and screw things up even more. You’ve already tried threatening and intimidating and everything else you know from being an older sister, but to no avail.

Maybe it’s worth it to just… ask. You’re not very _hopeful_ for the idea, but it’s not like you’ve got many options left, anyway. Anything would be worth it – literally anything – to just get _out_ of brother’s body, back where you belong. “Why can’t you guys just, I don’t know, skip breakfast or something?” you almost plead. “Don’t you – isn’t that a thing you do? Why _today_ do you suddenly feel the need to drag your feet like this?” You clench your fist and grit your teeth, growing steadily more frustrated at your brothers and their ‘cooperation’ skills that they apparently must have learned from a literal donkey.

Phineas doesn’t stop, though, not even for a second – not even to so much as look at you as he starts walking away. “I would, sis, but I’m _really_ feeling sluggish right now for some reason, and I wanna be on top of the game when we’re gonna be having to mess with both of our minds, you know?” He staggers and catches himself on doorjamb, sticking out his arms wildly and making an absolute fool of himself.

You snort in disbelief. “Right. Because you – you the one who gets up at the… whenever you wake up, like, six or seven or whatever. Whenever you get up! I don’t know – I _wouldn’t_ , because I’m still sleeping! You get the point!” He doesn’t get the point, you know, but it doesn’t matter and you give up anyway. Ferb stares at you weirdly, but he stares at everyone weirdly. It’s like his thing.

“We’ll be quick,” Phineas promises, using the wall of the hall as support as he awkwardly moves step by step towards the stairs. “I also need the practice walking, apparently. Is it always this hard being so thall? I feel like I’m so far away from the ground and it’s making it really hard to catch my- WHOA!”

He’d been walking as he rambled, or at least trying to walk and sticking both his arms straight out like like he was an acrobat crossing a high-wire. And then he steps out over the first stair down and you’re only able to catch a fleeting glimpse of his eyes widening when his foot flies out from under him.

You instinctively cringe at the series of crashes that cascade through the air afterwards, ending with a particularly loud thump and sound of your brother groaning from the foot of the stairs.

“Owww,” he moans, as you look over the edge of the staircase and see him lying crumpled at the bottom of the landing, grimacing as he rubs his shin. “I _really_ have to get better at balancing. That hurt.”

“Welcome to my world,” you snort, though you still decide to hang onto the handrail and walk a little slower as you follow him down. “Doesn’t feel too great, does it?” That’s one thing you won’t miss about being in your body, at least. Phineas can take all the tumbles he wants, as far as you’re concerned.

Okay, maybe you feel a _little_ sorry for him, as you watch him grab onto the banister and slowly pull himself back to his feet. There’s a wince on his face while he rubs his rear end, and you’re well enough acquainted with the experience to know how much it actually does hurt. Still, you don’t feel _that_ bad. It’s not like it happens to _him_ all the time, after all. You, on the other hand – heck, you’d probably run out fingers before you made it to last week if you started counting all the times you’ve been pushed or shoved or dragged or squeezed or pulled through or down or into places – even places where you’d have thought you wouldn’t fit inside in the first place.

None of _that_ certainly feels any good, but you manage, and you’ve never let it stop you before. Phineas’ll be fine as long as he stops being such a wimp about it.

Ferb stares at you again as you ignore Phineas to walk past him, but you honestly don’t care one way or the other, even though the fact that he’s… actually probably an inch or two taller than you are continues to make it more uncomfortable than it has any right to be. It feels almost like he’s judging you, but when you look back over your shoulder at him, he’s busy helping Phineas balance on his own again and not paying you any mind at all.

Whatever. He never pays you any mind anyway.

At least you have a plan. Namely, eat breakfast – because you _are_ hungry – and then wait for your brothers to fix all this mess. Hopefully it won’t take _too_ long, because although you hadn’t had anything really specific planned for _today_ , you do _not_ want to be in your little brother’s body if Stacy – or heaven forbid, _Jeremy_ – comes over for some reason.

And then your mother appears in the kitchen doorway behind your brothers, and you’re suddenly also reminded that you’re grounded, too.

Or rather, that your _brother_ is grounded… because he’s the one in your body, of course.

Well, you hadn’t intended on leaving the house anyway, not until your brothers get this fixed. You certainly don’t want anyone seeing you like this – at least not anyone who matters. Stacy or Jeremy, really. There’s… uh, well, you _have_ lots of friends, they just… you don’t… you _do_ have lots of friends. Like Jenny! And, uh, that one girl from school. Well, she does like to shove your face into water fountains a lot and call you ‘Carrot Top’, but she’s still… someone, right?

She seeks you out, at least. There’s something there, you’re positive of it.

On second thought, though, maybe you’re thankful that summer vacation lasts as long as it does here in the Tri-State Area. One hundred and four days! And it usually feels like a lot longer anyway.

“’morning, everyone,” Mom says casually, opening the refrigerator. You grunt something in response, not even sure what you’re saying yourself as you cross the kitchen to fetch the cereal from the cupboard. You can hear your brothers being their annoyingly energetic selves already from behind you, even as you realize that the cereal is now too high on the shelf for you to reach and you’re forced to drag your brothers’ stepstool across the kitchen just to get at it.

Embarrassing.

“Wow, you sure are chipper this morning, Candace,” Mom comments. “Feeling any differently about last night, perhaps?”

“Not really, no,” you mutter, walking back across the kitchen and pulling out your chair. “Mostly just wondering how you’re somehow not gonna notice that I’m in…” Oh. Whoops.

Mom’s raising an eyebrow now, staring at you like you’ve just grown a third eye or something. You just pour your cereal and stare hard into it as you begin shoveling it into your mouth, and she eventually stops and turns back to your brothers. “Right. Well, Candace, your father and I were discussing appropriate punishments after happened last night and-”

“You know, Mom, it really _wasn’t_ her fault, like I said before” Phineas suddenly chimes in. It’s enough to make you stop chewing your mouthful of cereal and look over at him in mild surprise. You hadn’t really thought that he cared all that much about what happened to you, really. It’s not like you being grounded would keep him and Ferb away from their precious projects, after all – heck, it might even help them, because being grounded and unable to leave the house… well, that would also make it very hard for you to actually _bust_ them – as if that needed to be any harder, right?

Mom stops midsentence, staring at Phineas, now. “Her fault? What’s this, now? Candace… please, don’t start with me on this. I’ve got a very busy day planned today and I don’t have time for this, alright? I’ve gotta leave in a few minutes already or I’m gonna be late for – just listen to me, okay, hon? Your father and I love you very much, alright?”

“No, wait, Mom,” Phineas protests. “I’m not Ca-ow!”

He stops abruptly as you kick him with all your might squarely in the shin, glaring just as hard as you can without actually scrunching your face so much that Mom notices what you’re doing.

Luckily, Phineas seems to take the hint (for once in his life). Either that, or he’s in too much pain rubbing the spot on his shin where you kicked him to keep talking. Whichever one – they both work for you, as long as he just _shuts up_. You’re all for getting both him and Ferb busted, of course, but don’t feel particularly keen on trying that when it would basically just be _asking_ for the Mysterious Force to somehow up and make your body disappear. And that is the _last_ thing you need right now.

No, a much better idea is to simply wait until you’re switched back, and then bust the boys for whatever machine or crazy insane gadget they’re gonna do the switching with. It’ll probably be big and super-complicated and dangerous and they’ll definitely be so busted for it, too.

But they have to fix you first – you can’t, well, heck, you don’t wanna have to go through these _hours_ until they fix it, much less a full day or whatever else might happen if you don’t let them take care of it first.

You continue eating disinterestedly as Mom resumes talking to Phineas – thinking she’s talking to you, though, which technically means that you’re not actually the one grounded? Not that it matters, because Phineas is definitely leaving this house, grounded or no, because he’s got things to fix, and you don’t intend to stay in his body any longer than you have to.

“Now, Candace,” she’s saying. “I know you probably think we were unfair last night, but you have to trust me when I say we only want the best for you as parents. And your father will tell you the same thing when he finishes getting ready for work and comes in here, I know. And we _did_ talk to your brothers last night, too, to get both sides of the story, and while they did… make it clear that it was perhaps not as much of your fault as we’d at first presumed, it _was_ still you who got the whole thing started, wasn’t it? We did say ‘no parties’, after all. I know he’s your boyfriend and you want to impress him, but is it _really_ that hard to tell Jeremy no when he asks for something we’ve explicitly forbidden you to have?”

You choke on a mouthful of cereal, coughing milk out onto the tablecloth as you splutter for breath.

Tell – tell _Jeremy_ no? What is Mom on about? This is the exact sort of reason why you don’t take advice from her on your relationship. That sounds like a firstrate, surefire way to get dumped – especially by Jeremy, considering how easily he could find someone way better than you if he really wanted. Can’t tell him _no_ , that’s… that’s crazy.

The only thing that comes before Jeremy is busting, and even that you hate having to put in front of him. Though there’s not much of a choice there anyway – you can’t _not_ bust your brothers, after all. But that’s different. Plus, you only have to bust your brothers _once_ , after all, and then they’ll be in trouble and have to stop (forever) and you’ll be vindicated and maybe Mom’ll stop looking at you like you’re the biggest liar on the face of the Earth. Because, seriously, though you’re well aware of how crazy you can sound – and you’d probably think you’re crazy too, honestly – the fact that Mom’s first assumption is that every even slightly implausible thing out of your mouth is a lie, it… it gets to you sometimes.

It won’t matter for long, though, ‘cause you’re gonna _vindicate_ yourself one day, and you know it. Heck, who knows - maybe even today. 

Now  _that_ would definitely make all this worth it.


	2. You're Going Down

Phineas, meanwhile, being absolutely ignorant of all things relationship-wise as he is, only stutters awkwardly at Mom's question. “I – I, uh, yeah, no, I mean, I don’t think so? Heh.” He grins like an idiot, reaching up and shoving his long hair out of the way to scratch behind his ear. And though you are a little surprised that Mom’s making it sound like he and Ferb came to your _defense_ last night, you’re pretty sure it won’t matter in the long run anyway. Mom and Dad were _awfully_ mad last night, worse than you’ve seen in a long time.

Even worse than the time last year when you got kicked off the wrestling team at school for accidentally knocking that one boy's two front teeth out and they ended up having to pay for all of it. You haven’t been allowed to even _bring up_ joining again after that, and you’re pretty sure the school banned you anyway, though you never bothered to check.

It really is too bad, because that was, like, the _one_ thing you were really good at, too. For a while afterwards you even considered joining the Fireside Girl’s troop specifically for that, but… well, you didn’t. You’d been in the middle of dating that one brunette kid and hadn’t wanted him to see you associating with the likes of your brother’s friends anyway. (And he’d still left anyway, because _he_ wasn’t perfect like Jeremy is and didn’t understand why busting is more important than just about all else in your life. But it was fine – you never liked him that much anyway.)

Mom doesn’t seem terribly impressed with your brother’s awful attempt at speech, but she looks at her watch and pats her pocket and continues anyway. “Right. Look, here’s what we’ve decided.” She stops for just a second as Dad appears from the doorway behind her and puts his hand on her shoulder.

“Good morning to you all,” he says, and then he and Mom look at each other and he nods. “Ah, I see. Don’t let me interrupt, then.”

“No worries,” Mom continues, turning back to Phineas. You can feel Ferb staring at the top of your head from across the table, but you resolutely keep your eyes fixed on your cereal, refusing to look up and give him the satisfaction. “We wasted a lot of money coming straight back from the airport last night. And even if it wasn’t all your fault, and even if you were trying to keep it from getting out of hand, you were still the one responsible, and you should’ve just said ‘ _no_ ’, and for that you’re going to be punished.”

You steal a quick glance up at Phineas because you can’t bear not looking anymore, and he… does not look well. He’s practically melting under Mom’s gaze as it is right now. And no surprise, either, given that he and Ferb are… basically never in trouble, not that you can easily remember. You’re always the one getting the tonguelashings and the sideways looks and quite frankly you’re used to it by now, but he, apparently, is not.

“What we’re going to do is this, then: For the rest of today, you are not to leave this property. Yes, you can go outside – maybe spend some quality time with your brothers for a change, but you’re grounded to _home_ , do you understand?”

Phineas squirms, looking like he’s about to cough up a hairball the way Perry sometimes does. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And,” Mom continues. “No cell phone.” Your eyes widen instinctively, a sudden fear curling in the bottom of your gut. “Your brothers have their phones if you need to get in touch with us, but, honey, we don’t want to hear a single peep about your brothers, or them doing anything crazy, or for you to call and insist that either of us come home, do you understand?”

_No_. No! How is this fair? It’s all your willpower to not slam your silverware down and start complaining. She can’t say that – not today, not when you’re gonna such a perfect opportunity! And you won’t even be able to take advantage of being in your brother’s body either, because by then they’ll have fixed this mess they made and… _ugh_.

“And if all goes well today, and you get along with your brothers, and we don’t have any trouble, then maybe tomorrow you can be ungrounded. If _not_ , well, tomorrow you’ll be grounded to your _room_ all day. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, yes,” Phineas stammers. “I – I understand.”

You perk up a little at the words. Ungrounded as early as tomorrow, potentially? Okay… so maybe there is at least _some_ good left in this whole thing, though you’re not sure if you’re actually gonna be able to stand the urge to bust. Sometimes, when it gets really bad, it’s less of an active decision on your part anyway, and you just can’t stand to _not_ do it.

Then again, you do have that upcoming date this Saturday, and you really _don’t_ wanna have to call and tell Jeremy that you can’t come because you’re grounded.

But then, _busting_.

Agh! Why is everything so hard? Well, it’s not actually _that_ hard, not really. All you have to do is bust your brothers today – and actually _bust_ them. If you do that, then everything will fall into place. Sure, Mom and Dad might get upset when you call them, but as long as you’re fast enough to beat the Force, they’ll _see_. They’ll see, and then everything will fall into place, and your _brothers_ will be the ones grounded, not you.

Honestly, Phineas looks in such distress from the reprimand he’s getting right now – one that’s not even really _directed_ at him, no less – that you’re not quite sure what he’d do if he actually got grounded. You guess you’re gonna find out today, though. Because today is a new day – more importantly, _the_ day. The day you win.

“And your phone?” Mom asks, holding out her hand towards Phineas.

“What?” Phineas is squirming even _more_ now. “Oh! I, uh, it’s up in Can – in – in my room.” His hand is back behind his ear before the words are so much as off the end of his tongue. “I’ll – I’ll go get it for you.”

Wait, Mom and Dad are gonna _take_ your phone? What is this – they can’t do that, can they? Well, they _can_ , but… no! You have people to text! Stacy to text! Maybe Jeremy if he texts you first so you know you won’t be bothering him! They can’t do that, surely not.

You’ve gotta say something, right? Phineas’ and Ferb’s phones are, like, ancient technology compared to yours. You can’t use _their_ phones to text your friends (honestly you’re not even sure if their phones have a camera on them?).

“Please do – and hurry,” Mom says. Phineas stands up, making a motion to walk in the direction of the stairs, but she reaches out and catches him by the elbow. “Look, honey, your father and I, we love you very much. You know that, right?”

Dad is nodding silently in the background as Phineas grins awkwardly. “Ye – yeah! Of course.” Mom lets go of him and he dashes off, disappearing around the corner of the wall.

“Be easy on your sister today, boys,” Dad says. “Try and get along with her, okay?”

You snort, shoveling one of the last spoonfuls of milk and cereal into your mouth. While you chew, though, you lift up your head and realize that everyone’s… staring at you?

Oh.

“Of – of course,” you say, trying to emulate your brother’s ridiculous oblivion as best you can. What would he say? Definitely not anything about the freakin’ torture they put you through sometimes. “I – we – will… get right on that. ASAP. Pronto.”

Everyone’s still staring, so you smile as innocently as you know how, giving a thumbs-up to Mom and Dad as you glare at Ferb. Why isn’t he backing you up on this, the little _twerp_. You know he can tell what you’re wanting, too. It’s not like it’s that much anyway – literally a ‘yes’ or even a nod or anything at all. Of course, he won’t even do so much as that.

You’re not even sure why you expected anything else. He’s _Ferb_ , after all.

“Right,” Mom says, raising one eyebrow. “Listen, Phineas, if this is about what happened last night, well, firstly, it’s not your responsibility. But although your father and I did take into account what you two told us, your sister has got to accept some of _her_ responsibility for letting the whole thing get started, whether or not she was the one who escalated it all the way to where it was when we got home.” She smiles at you. “And it’s only one day, after all, if she manages to behave. Considering the mess that had to be cleaned out of our toilet, I think that’s pretty fair, don’t you?”

“Uh,” you stammer. “Uh, yeah, sure? I guess so?” It’s all just so confusing, and it’s kinda hurting your brain. One thing you hadn’t expected, at the very least, is that… well, Mom is making it sound like your brother came to your _defense_ last night? After you’d been sent off to your room, apparently? You… you kind of have a hard time believing it, knowing your irrational and immature brothers – but Mom definitely wouldn’t make it up or anything. Not to mention that one day of grounding _is_ pretty light a sentence for how upset they were last night.

Last night you’d been _sure_ that you wouldn’t be allowed out of the house – out of your room, even – for a week, at least. That was certainly how mad they were… and you got trundled off. And then _Phineas_ , of all people, came to your defense?

Stacy, maybe, you could see. Or Jenny. Or Jeremy – they were all here last night, of course. And yet none of them did anything, and your _brother_ did? It’s really hard to believe, especially when you know good and well how annoying they are for, like, ninety-nine percent of the time. When their stupid contraptions aren’t beating you within an inch of your life, of course.

“Come now,” Dad says, smiling in that way he does when he wants to change the subject. “Let’s not bring the whole morning mood down, shall we? This isn’t even so much of a _punishment_ as a reminder to be… more responsible. When you’re in charge, you have to deal with greater responsibility. It’s evident your sister is – is not ready for that kind of responsibility yet, but having something to jog her memory will be good for her in the long run. Just put that extra effort into getting along today, and I’m sure you’re gonna have a great time.”

You seethe inwardly at the words, gritting your teeth as you stab your spoon into your bowlful of milk. “Uh huh,” is the only you can manage to get out through your clenched jaw.

It’s bad enough that your parents don’t trust a single word that comes out of your mouth – and you know they don’t, you’ve seen the looks, overheard the conversations. But he can’t say _that_ – you’re the _older sister_ , the one who _should be_ in charge. Being in charge is… it’s your thing. It’s your element, kind of. And Mom _already_ attaches ridiculous conditions to putting you in charge – now Dad’s just basically flat-out saying that they’re not gonna be putting you in charge again.

Not that being ‘in charge’ ever helped you very much before? Phineas and Ferb, they never listen to anything you have to say anyway, whether you’ve been put in charge or no. And there was even that one day when you won that essay contest and got put in charge of the _whole city…_ and still failed. You had the bust literally _in the bag_ , and somehow the Mysterious Force just up and rewound time itself and made some weird old guy win the contest.

All _he_ ever said was ‘if you find any gold, it’s mine!’, and yet somehow that, _that_ , beat your amazing essay on busting that you worked so hard on.

Still, whether or not being in charge actually _helps_ (and now that you think about it, it doesn’t really seem to have any sort of an effect at all?), you still _like_ it. Like being charge, like getting to tell your brothers what they can and can’t do (even if they never listen to you), like all those things. It’s natural anyway. You’re the oldest sibling, after all – you _should_ be the one in charge. What are Mom and Dad gonna do, exactly, put Phineas or Ferb in charge of _you_?

Not likely. At least, you _really_ hope not, because you do _not_ intend to _obey_ either of your brothers, not for a second. They can’t tell you what to do!

A loud thump followed by a drawn-out groan from the direction of the living room announces your brother’s return, interrupting your train of thought. Finally – what took him so long, anyway?

He’s rubbing his shin when he arrives in the kitchen, wincing, and clutching your phone in his free hand. _Your phone_. Instinct drives you to reach out for it, even as Mom does first, and your hand closes around absolutely nothing, no doubt making you stupid in the process. Apparently that’s not something you can escape, even by switching bodies entirely.

Well, that’s – that’s good to know, though you wouldn’t have expected anything less, not really.

“Sorry I took so long,” he apologizes, which is thankfully at least enough to make Dad stop looking at you all confused like that.“I to had find it ‘cause it wasn’t where Candace normally keeps it and then on the way back down I tripped over the coffee table and… it hurt.” So maybe you aren’t perfect at imitating your little brother’s behavior – what’s he gonna do, sue you? It’s not like that’s something you ever _wanted_ to be good at anyway. If you’d _known_ that it was going to suddenly become useful, well, maybe you’d have taken time out to practice or something.

As it turned out, though, you didn’t, and now here you are. At least you know that your parents have places to be, like they do most weekdays. Just gotta suffer through the rest of breakfast and eventually they’ll be gone and you can drop the act.

Maybe you can even speed the process up a little bit. Surely Mom has those errands to run, right? She was just out grocery shopping yesterday, you know, and the cupboards are stocked up because they’d been planning on being gone to their convention or whatever for those few days.

“Thank you,” Mom says, pocketing your phone. You can’t stop yourself from wincing. It feels like she’s just taken a piece of you more than anything else. What _are_ you supposed to do now, without Phonsie to keep you company? You’d been counting on being able to at least _text_ your friends while waiting for your brothers to do their thing?

It probably won’t take them too long, will it? It never takes them long to do things to _annoy_ you in the mornings, after all. But this’ll somehow probably be different, won’t it? Because now you need them to _help_ you – you need them to actually _do_ something – and no matter what, there’s no one who knows better than you how obstinate your brothers can be about the things you need them to do.

Part of you wants to believe that maybe that won’t be true this time, because Phineas is _also_ affected by this, what with the whole ‘being in your body’ thing (and it’s clearly not being the most fun experience he’s had all summer, judging by the look on his face and the way he’s still rubbing his shin), but you really aren’t getting your hopes up, just because nothing is _ever_ that easy for you.

You wouldn’t be surprised if it took, like, all-freakin’-day for them to fix you, and what are you supposed to _now_ – now that Mom has your phone, too? Maybe you could just – could just hang onto, like, some vaguely-phone-shaped object, or something. Like a banana. And just _pretend_ it’s a phone. That could help, right?

No, that’s stupid.

You’re not scrapping the idea, though. You _could_ use Phineas’ phone, technically, but you’re pretty sure it doesn’t even send texts and that – that means it’s just about worthless as far as methods of communication between you and your friends go.

_Calling_ them… is an option, technically, but then they’d surely wonder why, exactly, you sound like your brother, and that’s not… okay, you don’t care so much if _Stacy_ finds out. It’s hardly worse than the dozen other things they’ve done to you this summer, after all. Jeremy, though, now he’s a hard no. He thinks you’re crazy enough as it is and this might well end up being the last push he needs to break up with you. That’s a push you don’t intend to give him, either.

Without Jeremy… well, he’s only like the best thing that ever happened to you, after all. Who _else_ has been able to stand you and your – your _you_ -ness for so long? No one. So Jeremy it is, and that’s something you’ve known in your heart ever since that first day you sat behind that plastic plant in the Googolplex food court and watched him at work through your binoculars.

And you _don’t_ intend to drive him away, too, especially not after you actually _officially began dating_ (something which is still a little hard to believe, if you’re being honest). And you’ll date through college and then get married and then have children together: two of them, to be named Xavier and Amanda, respectively.

It’s going to be perfect.

You’ve already drawn pictures of what your future children are going to look like, too, from that time you met your future daughter on that day Phineas and Ferb took you to the future. (Ugh – you still get mad thinking about _how close_ you were to busting them that day. And then your older self had the audacity to tell you to back off. She’s no older self of _yours_ if she thinks that way, for sure.) You _had_ a picture of your future daughter before, actually, that you’d wanted to put front and center on the ~~shrine~~ dedication you’ve built to Jeremy inside your closet, but a few hours after getting home, she somehow spontaneously disappeared from the picture – probably your brother’s fault, honestly, but Mom didn’t believe you when you tried to tell her.

Hence the drawings instead. They’re better anyway – you never were a very good photographer. It’s part of the reason you’ve given up trying to take pictures of your brother’s creations. The other reason being, of course, that that’s just _inviting_ the Mysterious Force to ruin your day by ruining your phone, too.

Do other older sisters have to deal with this sort of thing? No, but it’s everyday stuff for you. Such is _life_.

You aren’t quite sure how long you’ve been sitting here daydreaming about Jeremy and your up-and-coming life together when Phineas claps his hands onto your shoulders, rudely jolting you back to the present. The present in which you are in your brother’s body, which is _really_ a present you’d rather not be jolted back to. But here you are anyway.

“Did you hear me, sis?” he asks.

You hurriedly look up and around, scanning the room for your parents, but they’re nowhere to be found. “Where are Mom and Dad?” you demand, twisting around in your seat to face your brother’s… chest, and then awkwardly having to look upwards to even see his face at all.

Which is, of course, actually _your_ face, but you digress. (At least, it _should be_ your face, even if it’s… not at the moment?)

“They… left?” he answers, looking sort of confused. “I mean, you _did_ say goodbye to them?”

“Oh.” You don’t actually remember doing any such thing, but if he says you did, then sure, whatever. It’s not like it matters _much_ , and your parents being gone does mean you’re finally free to drop the act. Not that _you_ were having to do particularly much acting anyway. “Right, of course.” You force out a laugh for a moment, then lower your eyebrows and glare at him. “Well?”

“Well what?” He glances at Ferb, who’s just… staring at the two of you, exactly as usual, then makes some exaggerated face and swats his hair away from the side of his face, only for it to promptly fall back down. (Because, you know, you actually _take care_ of your hair.)

Crossing your arms, you release a breath and slouch back into the chair. This is exactly you were expecting, to be honest. When have your brothers ever done _anything_ nice for you that hasn’t been like pulling teeth out of a chicken?

(Okay, you can’t help but feel a _little_ guilty for thinking that, because you know it’s not _entirely_ fair, but you’re still loath to discard it entirely, because it sure does seem true sometimes.)

“Let’s see,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “How about we start with the fact that, oh, I don’t know, _you’re me_ and _I’m you_. Does that jog your memory to any degree, hmm?”

“Oh, that?”he says, laughingly, even though it’s pretty evident (or at least should be evident, if Phineas had more situational awareness than your average potato) that this is no laughing matter. “I hadn’t forgotten about that, if that’s what you mean. I don’t think I _could_ forget about it, I mean, have you seen how much trouble I’m having balancing? I think this is why people don’t _usually_ have three-foot growth spurts overnight. Your legs – my legs, I guess? They’re just so much _longer_ than I’m used to. It feels like I’m standing on stilts or something, and I just can’t get the hang of it.”

“Yes, that,” you return flatly, and with a pointed glare. “If it’s just _such_ a big deal to you, then why don’t you _quit_ dragging your feet and starting being _useful_ for once, or so help me, you’re going to be _so_ busted, I swear!” You pause for a split second, but don’t really want to lie to him. Your trustworthiness with your parents is already shot enough – you don’t need to pile _actual_ lies on top of that. “Even more than you would be normally, because you _do_ realize that I’m going to have to show Mom exactly whatever crazy machine it is you’re gonna make to switch us back, right?”

Phineas grins. “That’s the spirit, sis! Can always count on you to be supportive.” He waves Ferb after him and stumbles slightly, but manages to catch himself in time to walk away without tripping. “C’mon Ferb! We oughta get started – Buford ‘n Baljeet ‘n Isabella’ll be over shortly anyway. This is gonna be great fun. Plus, check it out! Pajama days are always a great excuse to go barefoot in the grass, am I right?” He pauses at the sliding glass door, turning around to look back at you. You’ve not yet moved from your spot at the kitchen table. “Are you coming, Candace?”

Well, it’s not like you had any _other_ plans for today. “Might as well,” you grouse as you slide off the chair. You probably ought to put your bowl and spoon away before going off, but… whatever. As long as you take care of it before Mom or Dad come home and see it, it’ll be fine. And besides, by then you’ll be in your own body, and so even if you forget, they’ll blame your little brother instead of you. And he’ll get in trouble and…

You hesitate halfway across the kitchen, the image of your brother practically shrinking into his chair while being scolded flickering through your mind again. You’re pretty sure you’ve never actually seen him so – so uneasy looking before.

And, of course, you do _want_ to get him in trouble, but – but only for the things that he and Ferb _deserve_ to be in trouble for, like their giant, crazy inventions that they insist on putting together every day. Those are the things they deserve grounding or whatever for.

It wouldn’t be quite… the same when it comes to things _you_ technically did, though. Not to mention it _would_ kind of undermine what is basically your entire life goal. You want your brothers busted, yes, but it wouldn’t do very much in the way of vindicating you and your stories to your parents if what they got ‘busted’ for was something was lame as leaving dirty dishes out on the table all day.

Doesn’t take you very long to clean up your dishes anyway, even _if_ you really, really, _really_ cannot stand having to use your brothers’ stepstool to get at the kitchen sink in order to rinse them out. How do they put up with that? It’s been ages since you were too short to reach anything in the house – it’s one of the benefits of being so tall, really. You worry a lot that Jeremy might not appreciate the fact that you’re kinda taller than he is by a smidgen or two (or three or whatever)… but at the same time, you really cannot _stand_ being this short.

Your brother is barely over four feet tall and can barely see over the kitchen countertops, which is kind of insane for a twelve-year-old. Or for you, a fifteen-year-old… in said twelve-year-old’s body. It’s really starting to get to you.

You should probably be outside by now anyway – if you’re not out there to supervise, who knows _what_ your brothers’ll get up to. (Probably anything _except_ what they _should_ be getting up to, if you know your brothers at all.)

Phineas _is_ right about one thing, though, you decide, as you pull open the sliding glass door and step outside. Pajama days _are_ a pretty good excuse to go barefoot in the grass. You don’t really go barefoot _often_ , but it can be nice, especially on warm days. Like today.

Makes it just a _little_ easier to forget – or at least not think about for a moment – the fact that _this_ pajama day was enforced against your wills in the first place. Not that Phineas would probably have a problem with it anyway, but you couldn’t do this, not normally, at least. What if someone – Jeremy? – happened to drop by and _see_ you like that? You’re not sure what exactly would happen, no, but you really doubt that it would be _good_ , and you’re not going to risk it anyway.

Which, of course, could still be a problem even today. If Jeremy _did_ come over, well, then your brother would just have to put ordinary day-clothes on and pretend to be you again and that’s really all there is to it. You’re hardly thrilled about the idea, but it’s unavoidable. You know good and well how much stuff Jeremy puts up with from you, and you’re hardly going to risk pushing him too far and ruining what you’ve so painstakingly built with him.

For now, though, the grass is soft and warm beneath your feet, and you’ve yet to receive any indication that _anyone_ is coming over, much less one of your close friends. Not that you _would_ be able to, given that Mom took your freakin’ _phone_ with her (or at least you presume she did, as you weren’t really paying attention) and that means… well, it means that you don’t have a way of knowing what happens. _Anything_ that happens.

And even going back to get Phineas’ phone wouldn’t do any good because no one’s gonna text your brother thinking it’s you anyway! Maybe – maybe that banana idea wasn’t such a bad one after all? It’s starting to sound a lot better, at least. You could get it – get it and sit somewhere and pretend! That’s, well, it would work, right?

Right?

“Hey, Candace!” Your brother is calling to you. “Wanna see what we’re gonna be doing today?” He’s already got a blueprint in his hands from… somewhere, and honestly, the sight of that toolbox sitting in the grass next to his feet is enough to waken every busting instinct in your body. You’re already wringing your hands as you lick your lips in anticipation of the moment, and how wonderful it’s really going to be.

Only the fact that you can very clearly see _yourself_ standing there next to that toolbox, your purple pajama outfit making a very strange contrast with the yellow hard hat Phineas has put on his head, keeps you from running off to find a phone right _now_.

Instead, you settle for the next best thing, which isn’t actually all that good at all – sarcasm.

“You should _already_ know what you’re gonna be doing,” you retort as you walk across the yard towards him and Ferb. Perry’s lying nearby, and you swear the animal is giving you the evil eye every time you take your eyes off him. (If he is, he’s doing it too quick for you to catch him in the act.) “Remember? We had this conversation before.”

And only a few minutes ago, too. Your brothers are oblivious, but _that_ oblivious? You really hope not, if only for your own sake right now. That would just be too much, with how much you already have on your plate.

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” he returns, laughing again. “Don’t worry, we’re definitely planning on getting this all sorted out – it’s what we’re doing today, after all. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be fun either, you know?”

“Right.” You don’t really feel like pointing out that it actually pretty much means exactly that. Unless he knows something you don’t, you’re not aware of any sort of ‘ _fun_ ’ to be had. Disgruntled, you cross your arms and reach the tree at the back of yard, leaning against it. “Well, I’m going to sit right here and watch you – and make sure your big, dumb whatever-gadget-contraption-thing doesn’t disappear before Mom sees it. And then you’ll be so _busted_.”

Someone’s staring at you again, you can sense it. Whipping your head around, you glare at Perry, but the meat brick is too quick and is just staring off into space in an entirely different direction. (Eventually you’re going to catch him in the act, you are.)

Unless it was just Ferb staring at you, which wouldn’t be entirely surprising because he kinda _is_ , but at least he’s got that whole ‘impassiveness’ thing going on, and even when you scowl at him, he only blinks far too calmly. You’re ready to _swear_ that you can just see your pet giving you the _look_ out the corner of your eyes, though.

Maybe you’re just going crazy. (Even more crazy.) That wouldn’t be surprising either.

“Sounds like a plan,” Phineas agrees cheerily. “Wanna help us out? I think we’re gonna go with old-fashioned stainless steel bracing because, hey, that stuff looks really nice, doesn’t it? And maybe use chrome-”

You interrupt him, slowly sliding your back down the tree trunk until you’re sitting down on the ground next to it. “Phineas, you know, I _really_ don’t care. Just – you do your thing, and make it big and flashy and easily seen from a distance and plain bustable, okay? Preferably permanent, if you can manage it, but I don’t care if it disappears as long as Mom _sees_ it first.”

“For sure,” he nods, missing your point entirely. Reaching down, he pats one of his pajama pants’ pockets, then the other, then looks confused for a second. “Oh… right. Mom took your phone.”

“I didn’t need the reminder,” you grumble, still a little upset by your parents’ urging you (or who they thought was you, which is just as bad, and maybe worse) to _spend time_ with your brothers today. As if you don’t already carve out a tremendous portion of your schedule just for them! As if you haven’t moved your morning alarm back almost an hour just to make absolutely sure you’ll not miss any busting opportunities! “Well, hope they’re happy about _this_. This enough time for you?” You’re probably getting grass stains on Phineas’ pajama bottoms, but you really don’t care.

“Hmm.” Phineas taps his chin. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Ferb, can I-”

He hasn’t even finished the sentence and Ferb’s already dug his phone out from some invisible pocket on his pants and handed it over. Phineas reaches for it, and misses horribly, his arm flailing uselessly through the air a good foot over Ferb’s head, too. You can’t help but snicker a little at that, as he sheepishly smiles and actually manages to take the phone successfully.

Before he can actually use it, though, there’s a distinct creaking sound from the fence gate.

“Hey, Phineas. Whatcha doin’? And… what’s with the pajamas?”

Isabella walks right past your brothers, her eyes boring directly into yours like she’s about to interrogate you about where you were when the victim was murdered last night. You instinctively lean back a little ways, just to get away from how intensely she’s staring at you. Trying to look straight into your soul or something. This sorta thing is why you’ve gotten in the habit of using binoculars and watching Jeremy from farther away.

Doing this sort of thing, it… just makes you look a bit creepy and obsessive.

“Hey, Isabella,” Phineas greets. “How’re you this morning?”

Isabella blinks, her eyes finally leaving your face for split second to flit over to your brother’s, her forehead twisting up. “I – I’m fine, I guess? Thank you?” And then she’s back to looking at you again. “Are – are you alright, Phineas? You sound kinda… funny, I guess?”

“Not particularly, no,” you drawl, heaving a sigh. “Incidentally, I’m not Phineas either, so I’d also kinda appreciate if you’d stop staring at me like you’re about to jump down my throat.” Okay, so maybe you’re being a _little_ overdramatic. After all, for now, all you have to do _is_ sit here and wait. Wait for your brothers to fix this (which you’re always having to do anyway) and then you’ll get to bust them, too.

If you succeed, of course, everything will work out. And you _want_ to succeed, and you’re going to give it your best shot, but you can’t help but worry about what’ll happen if you _fail_ instead. Which is to say, not much, probably – just adding another link to your summer-long chain of disappointment and regrets. And, going off what Mom and Dad said this morning, probably get in trouble, too.

Which is why you _can’t_ fail, not this time.

You’re not gonna give up, not by a long shot, but maybe considering all that, your reaction isn’t quite so unjustified after all. Life may cruel and unfair to that guy from the show Dad likes to watch (the one with the head ‘about the size and shape of a pear’) but it’s also not been particularly friendly to you either, at least not about the things really important to you – none of _those_ things ever come easy.

At least Jeremy’s putting up with you (for now) so you have that going for you. As long as you don’t ruin it, of course, which is freakin’ _hard_ to stop considering the insanity your brothers get up to sometimes. You swear you’re the only normal one in your whole family, really.

And one thing is for sure: being trapped in your brother’s body is certainly not any sort of an effective mood-lifter. Trapped and also without your phone, which is a nagging worry that still won’t vacate the back of your head.

Isabella doesn’t really seem to agree with any of that, though she also just looks more confused than anything. “What? Not Phi… what?” Definitely confused. She looks back and forth between you and Phineas, her eyebrows twisting as if you both just sprouted new eyeballs or something.

Phineas laughs, as he would. “Oh, that’s my bad – I guess we forgot to tell you, didn’t we?”

“Tell me what?” Isabella echoes, looking more and more bewildered.

“See, there’s been a little, uh, mishap,” Phineas says, gesturing at you and then himself.

“More than just a ‘mishap’,” you snort. “Falling down the stairs is a _mishap_. This is a _catastrophe_.”

“Right.” Phineas nods. “Basically, what’s happened is that, somehow-”

“-somehow-” you interject sarcastically.

“-Candace and I switched bodies overnight. So, right now, I’m actually me, well, I’m actually Phineas.” He smiles broadly, though it doesn’t seem to reassure Isabella very much. “And she’s me! Well, my body, I guess?” He points at you. “As in that that’s Candace, and I’m Phineas. It’s pretty cool, right?”

You can’t help but snort derisively again at that. Isabella just stares, though, looking completely dumbfounded. Then she shakes her head. “Wait, so… really?”

“Believe it,” you say. “Trust me, I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s a thing now, I guess. Because, you know, the universe has a great sense of humor or something. I’m just having a ball.” Pumping your fist, you offer a half-smile. Maybe not the _friendliest_ face in the world, but hey, it’s just your dorky little brothers’ equally dorky equally little friend, so it’s not like it matters all that much anyway.

“Whoa,” Isabella breathes. She blinks once or twice, and doesn’t look quite so confused anymore as she points at you. “So, you’re – you’re not Phineas. You’re… Candace?”

You nod. “Yes, that would be what he just said, wouldn’t it? Either way, I can a _hundred_ percent guarantee you that I am _not_ my brother, nor am I your precious crush, either.”

Isabella’s face flushes a shade of crimson so deep that it couldn’t possibly be healthy and she clenches a fist while madly gesturing with her other hand – and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she’s trying to say, either.

Her kiddie crush never really struck you as anything particularly important anyway, but you still shrug and let the subject drop. You know your brother anyway. He’s about as blind as the day is long to anything even remotely relating to-

“Someone has a crush on you?” Phineas suddenly asks, and although you didn’t think it was possible, Isabella gets even more red in the face. “That’s – that’s pretty funny. Who is it?”

It takes you a second or two to realize that he isn’t even looking at Isabella. Instead, he’s looking at _you_.

“Wh – what are you even talking about?” you exclaim. Part of you doesn’t even believe that your _brother_ has the situational awareness to even grasp the concept of crushes at all. Maybe he’s finally starting to grow up. Or it’s just because he’s technically just had a three-year growth spurt overnight. Though if _that’s_ the case, you can’t help but worry a little what being in your brother’s body is going to do to _you_.

You don’t feel any different, not really? But it might not be something you can tell from the inside, either. That – now that is more than mildly concerning, and it’s something you hadn’t even considered before now, either. “Wait, wait, do I sound different to any of you guys? Phineas? Do you feel any different? I mean, you actually – why would you ask about people having crushes anyway? Since when you do care about any of that anyway!”

Phineas blinks. “I, uh, I don’t feel different, no? I’m not… I mean, I just heard you tell Isabella you’re not her crush and that means that you’re _someone’s_ , right? And I know you and Jeremy have that thing and I don’t mean to be nosy but I was still curious, you know?”

“Okay, firstly, me and Jeremy do not have that ‘thing’,” you interrupt hastily, leaning against the tree trunk in order to scramble to your feet. “We are _dating_ now – officially, mind you – and I’ll have you know we’re engaged to be engaged to be engaged to be married.” You stop to clear your throat. “Though that is… that is on a need-to-know basis, of course. Not that anyone outside of this group needs to know, either.”

“Well, if there was any doubt in my mind before, it’s certainly gone now,” Isabella cuts in dryly. Her face has mostly returned to it’s normal color, at least, though there’s also a hint of tiredness in her eyes as she turns away from you and to Phineas. “Hey, Phineas. Whatcha doin’?” She shakes her head. “Wow, this is so… weird. I mean, sure, I _believe_ you… but whoa, this is weird. How does it – I mean, you look like Candace, and yet you’re… not her. You’re – you’re you, I guess, but you’re also, well,”

“To be fair,” Ferb interjects, holding up one finger like he’s going to make some profound statement. “This is not our first time dealing with such incidents, either.”

“That’s true!” Phineas agrees. “First it wasn’t me, though – it was Candace and Perry and that-” he pauses for a moment to look around. “Hey, where _is_ Perry?”

“Candace and Perry?” Isabella echoes. “Wait, how come I never heard of this? I feel like I should’ve been told about this? What day was this on, anyway?”

“Maybe it was just ‘cause it was none of your business,” you reply. “Or because in _that_ case, Phineas and Ferb actually made themselves useful and fixed… hey, wouldn’t that fix us now, too?” You look over at Phineas expectantly. “The same thing you did before with the, like, giant metal things and all that?”

Phineas frowns. “It could? Though when you and Perry switched places, it was due to that teleportation mishap in the first place. So all we really had to do to _fix_ it was just reverse the process and send you back through together, too. Which technically had about a fifty percent chance of working, and happened to work on the first try, too.”

You fold your arms across your chest and heave a sign. “And let me guess: it won’t work now because of _some_ inane reason that’s never been an issue before but now suddenly will be for no good reason at all.”

“I doubt it would do much on the sort of permanent basis we need now,” he replies. “And it’s the fact that this… just happened that makes the whole thing rather tricky. This is super-advanced quantum mechanics and microrelativity we’re dealing with here, you know?”

Tricky. Great – ‘cause that would be the word you were looking forwards to hearing applied to the situation you’re stuck in now. “Right. So what sort of time frame are we looking at them? I kinda have a _life_ to get back to, you know. I would _like_ that as soon as possible.” The sooner you can get back to your _own_ face and not your brother’s freakin’ triangular one? The better.

“We’ll only have to rewrite and revamp large swaths of the modern understanding of physics and biochemistry and probably stuff involving neutrinos too. That’s a lot of extremely complex science.” He stops to tap his chin for a moment or two. “In a worst-case scenario, you’re probably looking at forty-”

Already your heart is sinking inside you. ‘forty’ is an awfully big number for something that really _can’t_ be here by Saturday at the very least, ‘cause of your planned date.

“- to maybe fifty minutes.”

Oh, wait. “Minutes?”

“For sure.” Phineas nods, and as if on cue, Ferb rolls open a blueprint, revealing what looks vaguely like a box with wires sticking out of it, surrounded all the sides by completely unreadable… script of some sort, made of a jumble of letters and numbers and weird shapes and half-a-dozen other things that were probably just thrown in for good measure. It might as well be written in code. “We’ve already got the theoretical concept worked at, as far as subatomic particle interaction and such goes. Just need to patch together a system to implement all these theories in physical space and we’ll be all set to switch back right away. No sweat.”

“No sweat?” you repeat. Well, that does sound at least a little promising. Of course, there aren’t many things that _are_ ‘sweat’ for your brothers, but hearing confirmation is still nice.

And now that you look at it, the blueprint does sorta give you an idea of _what_ they’re going to be building, too. And it does look quite small, compared to the normal scale of their projects. Those little lines, they’re inches and not feet, right? Something like that.

It’s still a good thing, as you’ve found that you always come closer to busting the boys when you can just directly carry their entire project to Mom. The bigger ones like the roller coaster and such, they… always disappear anyway, and you can’t move them, and you just prefer the littler ones, honestly.

Mainly ‘cause there’s less chance of you getting sucked inside it that way.

Fifty minutes is… well, it’s not going to be a fun wait, and if those two don’t quit running their mouths and get down to business, it’s going to wind up taking a lot longer, won’t it? And as for you… well, you’ll find something to do? Maybe you can text Stacy and-

Oh, wait, no, that… won’t work. Unless it will.

Phineas’s started rambling away to Isabella about something or the other and Ferb’s messing around with junk from a toolbox that wasn’t there before but now just is somehow. You can’t stay here much longer anyway, or else watching them _do_ this without actually trying to bust is going to wear on your nerves.

And, yeah, Mom may have technically taken away your phone in an effort to get you to ‘spend more time’ with your brothers today (as if you don’t already do that?), but for right now – for the next fifty minutes or so – you’re not yourself anyway.

You just hope Phineas’ phone actually has texting on it. For someone who can do such annoying things so easily – the worst kind of annoying, too, the kind with just a _little_ dash of awesome on top – he really doesn’t seem bothered about using a phone that’s about ready for Dad’s store already.

“Imma be watching the clock!” you shout back at them as you set out across the yard, before opening the sliding glass door. “You’d better be done by, uh-” instinctively you pat your pocket, but there’s nothing there “-real soon! Or else you’re gonna be so busted!”

Well, they’re busted anyway – you’re gonna make sure of that. But not quite yet. And now, where _is_ Phineas’ phone anyway?


	3. Thinking Big

There have been a whole lot of really awesome days this past summer so far, and one thing’s for sure: this is hardly an exception. It’s definitely the sorta thing that makes you excited when you remember that summer’s barely even halfway over.

And of all the things that’ve happened to you over the course of the past two months, this is by far one of the most… unique. When you woke up this morning, it was really weird – like some kind of dream. You saw _yourself_ pulling you out of bed, and then there was the realization that you were in Candace’s bed. And also that you were Candace.

Or at least so far as the outside goes, of course. Nothing seems to have changed, as far as you can tell, on the inside? Even after Candace asked you whether you felt any different, and you double-checked as well as you could.

Not to say you don’t feel _different_ , ‘cause you do: being your sister is actually weird in a lot of ways, the biggest one being that you’re so _tall_. It seriously feels like you’re trying to walk on stilts most of the time, which makes it really difficult to do things climb stairs or run. Or even walk at all, if you’re not paying special attention.

Falling down the stairs, though – now _that_ really hurts. You hope it’s okay if you don’t want to do _that_ again.

Which is doubly strange because you _do_ know how to walk on stilts (you’ve done it before), but this is a lot different. Maybe it’s cause the proportions of your legs feel off or something? You’re definitely not used to having such long legs, that’s for sure. Candace’s hair is also all the down to her shoulderblades, which is not something you’re used to, but that’s much less difficult to work with, as long as you remember to shove it out of the way of your eyes every once in a while.

The whole experience is vaguely surreal on some level, because you know this isn’t your body, and it somehow doesn’t _feel_ like your body, either, despite being just that on a physical level. It’s just something you’ll have to put up with for a little while, though.

And it’s not all bad, either. You can’t deny that it’s pretty cool getting to see the world through Candace’s eyes. Being so tall is pretty great – you can reach all the way to highest cupboard shelves without even having to really stretch at all. And when you’re concentrating on it, you can walk really fast without even breaking a sweat because your pace is so long.

Plus Candace is _really_ strong. And now you are, instead. When you lifted yourself earlier in the morning, it really wasn’t that difficult at all, though Candace didn’t seem terribly fond of it.

All things considered, it is a pretty cool experience, and it’s definitely something to note down in you and Ferb’s journal of cool things you’ve done this summer. But you _would_ rather like to be back in your own body, too, and you can’t blame Candace for wanting that either.

Hence the project you’re working on right now, which is going to do just that.

You feel a weird sensation, and glance over your shoulder to see Isabella staring at you again. She’s – she’s actually been doing that a lot this morning, and you’re not sure why. Probably she’s just trying to get used to you being, well, being in Candace’s body, which is as close to being _Candace_ as you’re probably gonna get.

You can’t really blame her for that, even if she does stare at you an awful lot because of it.

She blinks and notices you looking at her, and suddenly looks off at Ferb. “Hey, Ferb, I got you that, uh, that thingy you needed.” It’s your brother’s right-handed flange tuner. Which reminds you that you should definitely try finding a left-handed one again sometime.

The only place you can get them is from Danville Sewage Repair, and they’ve got some sort of really strict policy on them for some reason, so you haven’t been able to get ahold of one yet. Which can make tuning flanges a bit tedious when you try to use a tuner that was designed for the wrong one of your hands.

Oh, well, though – you’re not gonna let that spoil the day. Today is gonna be a great day anyway, mysterious inexplicable overnight body-switches or not. Speaking of mysterious and inexplicable things, it has been a while since you’ve seen the mysterious inexplicable giant floating baby head. Maybe it had something to do with this?

… nah, not likely.

“Ferb, hand me that wrench, will you?” He tosses it and you nab it from the air, setting about to tightening the next bolt on the panel in front of you. This shouldn’t take too much longer to finish anyway. You’re getting grass stains all over Candace’s pajamas, but a few trips through the washing machine and some special detergent and they’ll be as good as new.

“You know, this is so weird?” Isabella says from somewhere behind you. “Like, I _know_ you’re you, still, and yet… I don’t know. Part of me still doesn’t feel like you entirely are. I guess just can’t really get past the fact that you’re… well, you’re in your sister’s body.”

“It is pretty unusual,” you agree. “But it’s got its perks, too. I mean, have you seen how tall and strong I am? If I had time to really practice at walking without tripping over my own feet, I could really burn some rubber in this body.” An idea suddenly occurs to you. “Maybe when we switch back, we could hold some footraces or something. Just to see how fast Candace _can_ actually run. I bet it’s crazy fast.”

“I guess?” Isabella says. “I’ll just be glad when you’re switched back anyway. It’s really hard to, uh, look at you the same way, I guess? The same way I normally do, I mean. Which is… something.”

“What?” You turn around briefly to look at her, smiling. “What do you mean? I don’t think I quite get what you’re saying.”

“No, of course you don’t,” she breathes. “Not even now.” Which, really only serves to confuse you even more. What _is_ she even talking about? You glance at your brother, but he only blinks. Before you can actually ask whatever she means, though, she clears her throat. “So, uh, how did this even happen anyway?”

“How did what happen?”

“Phineas, come on. What could I _reasonably_ be talking about?”

“Oh!” The body-switch. Well, of course – and you’d kinda figured as much anyway – but, hey, better safe than sorry, right? Though it is an interesting question in it’s own right, too. “I… don’t exactly know.” You look back at Ferb. “Any ideas, bro?”

He blinks, and you shrug. So neither of you know then. It really _is_ mysterious and inexplicable, isn’t it?

“Huh.” Isabella replies. “Well, that’s… a little upsetting, don’t you think? Maybe it was – was aliens or something.”

Meap? You don’t think so. Do the Meapians even have the technology for this sort of thing? You don’t recall seeing anything of the sort on that one guy’s ship (what was his name again, the zookeeper?) but appearances can be like that sometimes. Kinda like yours is right now, like the way you… the way you tricked your parents this morning.

That was… that was not something you enjoyed very much. Only ‘cause Candace clearly wanted it for some reason did you go along with it. You really ought to ask her why she didn’t want to just, you know, tell them, because you don’t like the idea of _not_ telling them like that.

Maybe she wants to… make it a surprise somehow? Which seems strange, because you’re pretty sure it _would’ve_ been a surprise to Mom and Dad as much it was a surprise to you this morning, but… well, you’ll ask her. Generally Candace has good reason for what she does, and you’re sure this time will be no exception.

“It _could_ have been aliens, I suppose,” you admit. “But I don’t know about that. It seems a little weird for some aliens to visit us purely to switch me and my sister’s bodies and then shoot out of here. I’m sure there’s a better explanation than _that_.”

“Perhaps there was a charged sub-quark energy field left behind from a prior construction,” Ferb suggests.

“One that kinda lingered harmlessly,” you finish the thought. “Until something – atmospheric conditions, maybe? – changed enough to give it a chance to interact with something to de-excite. That’s – that’s possible, I suppose?” What were your recent ideas, though? Were there any that could’ve done that?

“Well, there was that helmet thing you guys gave Baljeet,” Isabella reminds you. “Maybe that had something to do with it? Like the whole, I don’t know, messing-with-minds thing?”

“That’s true,” you muse. “And the episode before that was when Candace got split in half, too – and the Molecular Splitter is definitely capable of generating fields like that, now that I think of it.”

“Wait, your sister got split in _half_?” Isabella interrupts. “Wh – how come I never hear about these things? When did this happen, exactly? How is she even _okay_? Well, I guess she isn’t even okay, technically, ‘cause she’s in your body?”

“It wasn’t a literal split-down-the-middle or anything,” you explain. “It was a more personality-based thing. The Splitter turned her into two separate versions of herself. One that embodied all her desires to date Jeremy, and one that embodied...” Hmm, actually, what _was_ your sister’s half supposed to be? You’d assume it would be just as obvious as the first half, but now that you think of it… “I think it was just the embodiment of her temper, actually.” Would certainly explain she – or rather, that half of her – yelled at you and Ferb like that.

That _was_ kind of disturbing.

Ferb’s looking at you, and he blinks.

“Right!” you agree, not sure how you forgot that. “Most recently, too, when Candace randomly kinda… starting acting all weird and then suddenly got that high-class Drusselsteinian accent out of nowhere.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” Isabella muses. “I’ll be honest, I just figured she was putting on some act to impress that boyfriend of hers. Which is, uh, ridiculous.” She blushes. “Of course.”

You grimace a little, reviewing the last few days in your head. “Now it occurs to me that we probably should’ve seen this coming, you know? Something was clearly going on, and it affected Candace’s mind a little bit before now, too, with the strange behavior and the accent.” Candace does strange things sometimes, but she generally knows what she’s doing, so you mostly just roll with it anyway. She’s really smart, and you pretty much trust that she’s on top of things.

She’s pretty awesome for spending so much time trying to make sure everyone in the family gets to see all the cool stuff you build.

Ferb nods a little, and you take the agreement as proof enough that this theory should probably be upgraded to _working_ theory.

“I’ll bet you it was Baljeet’s thing that he did with the atmosphere when he had the brain-booster helmet on that provided enough of a shift in ambient atmospheric condition to prompt a built-up energy field to discharge like this, too,” you add, voicing what you can tell your brother is already thinking. “That thing with Candace and the accent and whatever was like an advance warning. We… well, we did nothing and now this happened.” You smile sheepishly. “Whoopsie.”

“Well, you can still fix it, right?” Isabella asks, a look of mild concern crossing her face.

“Oh, I don’t see why not?” you assure her. “Especially so now that we know better how it happened, too, so it should be even easier, actually. We’ll be able to do a lot more refining of the calibrations with neutrino interactors with a whole lot less trial and error if we’re not going into this completely blind.”

“That’s – that’s a relief,” Isabella sighs, depositing a box full of assorted circuit chips on the grass near you. “Guess I’m gonna be able to get my _Manipulating Metaphysical Essence of Human Consciousness_ patch today, at least. Since, you know, apparently I missed the last opportunity at that. Somehow.” She pauses for a minute, shaking her head. “Where _was_ I that day, anyway?”

“I… I really don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Maybe that was the day you went with your family to visit your cousins last month?”

“Yes, maybe,” she says. “I wonder…”

“Could probably ask Irving if you were really curious?” You squint a little as you careful solder several very tiny wires together. “I’d bet he knows.” Irving kinda knows everything, actually. It’s a little… well, hey, it makes him unique, right? So he’s got that going for him.

At least the project is coming along, and right on schedule. There’s not that much left to do, and though it is a little finicky, it’s nothing compared to that day you and Ferb built that photo-activated worldwide teleportation matrix to get his skateboard back from England without having to wait for the next family trip over there. That was some real complex stuff right there, and you still hadn’t gotten all the kinks ironed out.

Teleportation is tricky business in general. One day you’ll perfect it, though – and also figure out some way to miniaturize the tech, too, maybe make it voice-activated. Imagine that, just saying ‘take me to… Easter Island’, and then just _being_ there. It would be so cool.

Cool or no, though, it’s not what you’re doing today. Today is a Consciousness-Switcher. Maybe tomorrow you can try the teleportation stuff. Might be a good thing to do inside, too, ‘cause as you look up at the sky, you can see dark clouds building up on the horizon.

It might rain soon. And this being Danville – when it rains, it _pours_. The weather certainly doesn’t do things by halves around here.

Working quickly and efficiently, you and Ferb and Isabella – your team, even – bring all the parts together into the grand finished project, the machine that’s going switch your and Candace’s minds back.

It’s quite large, taller even than the tree, and far and away taller than the house. Wires are soldered and flanges tuned and a superprocessor or two are installed. Welding and screwing and wiring and programming and also plugging things in (because that’s important) and applying a fresh coat of paint to the outside because if you’re gonna do this thing, well, you’re gonna do it _right_.

And it’s perfect timing, too. You’ve only just finished, and Ferb’s only just powered up the mainframe computer for the first time when you hear the sliding glass door come open and out comes your sister. She’s gotten ahold of your phone, too, clutching onto it in one hand.

“Phineas!” she shouts, trying to make sure she’s heard over the racket. “It’s been fifty- _whoa_.” She stops dead, staring up at the massive device towering up the grass next to you.

“Hey, Candace!” You wave, motioning her over. “Pretty cool, right? Check out the paint job!”

“The hearts were my idea,” Isabella interjects. “For… uh, well, reasons, okay?”

“It’s – it’s – it’s so _big_ ,” Candace stammers, blinking, even dropping your phone. She’s standing in the grass, though, so it’s perfectly okay. “Guess I – guess I misread.”

You crane your neck up to get a good look up at the top of the thing. “It is pretty sizeable, isn’t it? Fluid plasmoid generators are kinda bulky, yeah. I bet it looks even bigger to you, too, since you’re… you know, shorter than you used to be. By quite a bit.” You hadn’t really considered that before, but it _is_ only about fifteen or twenty times taller than you are. You being Candace’s height – and she’s almost twice your height. So it would definitely look bigger from down there.

Look at you saying ‘down there’ like you’re a giant or something now. Though it does feel a little like that, still, now that you think of it. Though obviously not as extreme as the day that Candace became an _actual_ giant.

It does make you wonder if she felt like this, then, though. Probably not – even though she grew a _lot_ , her body still grew _proportionately_ , and that’s kinda what you feel like is making it hard for you to balance now. Though you are getting somewhat better at it.

Candace is talking again, though it’s more quiet – so quiet, even, that you can only just barely hear her voice over the noise the electron conduit tubing is making in the background.

“No, no, Candace, don’t freak. Just wait, and let them fix you _first_. And then you’ll bust them. Bust ‘em good, too. Boy, this is too good. I can already taste it.” She laughs, too, in that way she does sometimes, all high-pitched and ‘heheheheheheh’.

It’s true, though – you can definitely already taste _something_ , that being the pie you saw Mom put in the fridge last night. It was blueberry, and you’re definitely looking forwards to tasting it later on. It’s gonna be good. And you’re glad Candace is, too, ‘cause she misses snack time pretty often and you really prefer the days when she’s there with everyone. It’s just so much more fun with _everyone_.

“Come on, Phineas!” she’s suddenly talking loudly again, gesturing wildly at you. “Ferb, your little friend, you all too! Get your rear ends in gear – some of us have things to do here! And I _don’t_ want to do them in freakin’ my little brother’s body!”

Candace does always get excited over you and your brother’s projects. It’s super encouraging to know you can always count on her enthusiasm for support, though right now you don’t really need encouragement for support. You’re fully ready to get this whole thing sorted out yourself.

Okay, there _are_ some experiments you’d still like to do, and some things you really want to try out. Like swimming, for instance, or just seeing how much you can actually lift. And then there’s all the scientific things you’d like to investigate, too. Obviously you’re in Candace’s body, but does that mean that, say, your tastes have changed any? Will you like the taste of zucchini now? After all, though you still have your own mind, you _also_ have your sister’s tongue and nervous system and… everything else, too.

There’s no zucchini in the house to test on at the moment. And you can _also_ see where Candace is coming from. And who knows, if this machine works _really_ well, maybe at some point in the future you can switch minds again – except on purpose this time.

Candace grabs your hand and tugs on it, pulling you towards the machine.

Doesn’t look like you’re gonna get to do any of that today, though. Which is fair enough. There are always other days of summer.

“Okay, let’s do this thing, then,” you agree loudly. “Ferb, how’s the charging going?” He flashes you a thumbs-up and you grin. “Well, I guess we’re good to go then, sis. You ready?”

“Am I _ready_?” she splutters. “Phineas, I swear, you are blind as a – just do the thing, will you? I don’t have time for this!”

“Sure thing-” Looking down on her like this, it’s very hard to resist the temptation to call her “-short stuff.” She whips her head around and glares at you as you step up onto the platform jutting out of the giant machine.

“Just get _going_. I have busting to get to, you know.”

“Don’t worry about it, this won’t take but a second.” Turning to face you Isabella, you cup your hands around your mouth. “How’re those readings?”

“Twelve point seventy-three!” she shouts back. “Is that good?”

Well, it’s not _thirteen_ , but it’s perfectly high enough to work anyway. “Ferb! We’re ready whenever you are!” Given the current atmospheric conditions, point seventy-three is probably as good as you’re gonna be able to coax out of the electrolyzer anyway. The sun’s still shining, but the clouds are thickening and you can definitely smell the coming rain.

Ferb blinks at you from the control panel. You can’t see his hands, but by all the noises the Switcher starts making, you can tell he’s turning up the power. The indicator bulb in front of you starts blinking red, first slowly, and gradually speeding up. Out the corner of your eye, you see your brother hold up three fingers.

Two.

“Get ready, sis. This might pinch a little bit!”

One.

“Wait, pinch a little? What’s that-”

Go time.

The whole world flashes white, and something’s pulling on you. Crackling rips into your ears, sounding like your limbs are all being pulled apart. Something snaps and pops and there’s a weird sense of being underwater, like you’re floating through the air. It gets louder and louder and louder… and there’s no air to breathe (though you don’t really feel suffocated?) and the pull is worse now, in all directions at once.

_Whack_.

Something hard slams into your chest, and you stumble backwards onto the ground as your breath rushes out of you.

Okay, that did more than pinch. A splitting headache rips into your head, and you vaguely see Candace’s body standing next to you, swaying back and forth in place, as you lay there on the ground.

Wait, next to you? So it worked? Awesome.

Another burst of pain throbs through your head, and you groan, not _feeling_ awesome. Did this same thing happen to Candace back when she switched with Perry? You don’t _think_ so, but it kinda hurts to think right now.

Candace sways back and forth and collapses to her knees, then keels over face-first into the grass, not saying a word or making a sound.

That’s not good.

“Candace!” you exclaim, ignoring your headache, trying to sit up, though your arms flail about uselessly instead of doing what you want them to.

“What!” The voice – your own voice – explodes out your own mouth. Your own mouth, even though you know perfectly well you never said anything of the sort. “Phineas, what have you _done_ to us!”

“Wait, what’s going on?” you interrupt, struggling to pull yourself up again. There’s something _else_ in your mind, something that’s interfering with your attempts to control your own limbs. “Fer – Ferb, I think something’s very wrong! Oh, you think that!” Okay, you definitely didn’t say that last part. You can definitely still see Candace’s body slumped on the ground, visibly breathing, but but otherwise not moving in even the slightest way.

You’re not one for panic, but you’re starting to feel very, very cold indeed.

“Phineas, you dork! You are going to _so_ busted for this!” You’re speaking again, and – wait, did you just call yourself… “Candace? Is that – is that you?” No sooner than the words are out of your mouth than you can feel your mouth moving again. “Who _else_ would it be? Just – you just fix this!”

Isabella is standing over you now, looking very concerned indeed. You blink, but your vision is kinda blurry and refuses to focus.

There’s only real option from here.

“Ferb! Engage the reverse function – this isn’t working!”

Finally you’re able to sit up, though your arms are shaking as if you’re having a really bad sugar rush.

“You heard him, Ferb! I swear, when I get out of he-”

Whiteness, again. And the crackling, and the pulling, and the sensation of being underwater. You cringe, bracing for the impact, hoping that the return trip might not be as-

_Whack_.

And you’re gasping for breath again, your head pounding, your face pressed into the ground. Slowly, you bring your hands up and press on your temples. “Owwww. That – that was more than we’d estimated being able to feel.” The only thing you can really do for the moment is roll over onto your back, so you do just that, staring off into the sky, breathing heavily as the pounding slowly fades.

Isabella’s face appears in your field of vision. And Ferb’s, too, the concern in his eyes as obvious as the clouds clogging the sky above both of them. “Candace?” Isabella asks.

You shake your head, cracking a grin. “Nope.” The headache is fading, thankfully, and you reach up and grab your brother’s outstretched hand, pulling yourself up into a sitting position, looking around. “Candace? Are you okay?”

“If this is how you describe _okay_ , then, yeah, I guess I am.”

Never have you been so relieved to hear your own voice – or to spot yourself sitting on the ground a few feet away as Candace presses her forehead into the palm of her hand.

“That… did not work as intended,” you offer sheepishly.

“Yeah, I’d _gathered_ that much,” she replies. “What – what even _was_ that?”

“I think – I think we somehow ended up in the same body somehow.” You look over at Ferb. “Did the system somehow not latch onto Candace’s mind properly? I didn’t know that was even  _possible_.”

“Didn’t look like it was _supposed_ to be possible,” Isabella points out, which you suppose is probably fair enough. Sometimes these things just happen you’re working with the ‘irrefutable’ laws of the universe. (Just because it’s thermodynamics doesn’t mean you’re gonna let that despotism stand, though.)

“There was no error with the registry,” Ferb says. “The resistor circuit overloaded.”

“The – the resistor circuit overloaded?” You scratch your head. “Wait, how… what happened to make _that_ happen?” He just blinks, though, which is… definitely strange. One things for sure, though – your previous working theory as to the cause of all this has now come under some serious doubt.

“Ugh, look at my pajamas,” you hear your own voice – your sister – moan. “Phineas, you’re… oh, whatever. I really shouldn’t be surprised by this anymore, should I?”

A quick glance down at yourself and you wince. The grass stains on Candace’s purple pajamas are… definitely not just on the bottom of the pant legs anymore. There’s a huge smear right across your chest from where her body toppled over while neither of your minds were in it. Still, it is just grass, and grass comes out _way_ more easily than, say, protoplasma.

If that stuff spills on someone, the only thing you can offer them is good luck. And maybe a nuke to try scorching the stain off, which sometimes helps make it less visible. Though it also tends to bleach most colors, so it’s not always the best cleaning option.

“So much for fifty minutes,” Candace continues. “I told Stacy I had to go for _this_. I mean, really? What even _was_ that?”

You shake your head. “I’m not quite sure. The resistor circuit apparently overloaded, which is… really, really strange.”

“Oh, beat me with a stick,” she groans. “How much longer is it going to take you, then? Phineas, I can’t stay like this. I have to get back to normal.”

“It’ll be okay, sis,” you reassure her. “There’s nothing to worry about. We’re…” well, what _are_ you going to do? A quick look in Ferb’s direction nets you nothing, and Isabella’s just staring blankly at you – though she looks away as soon as you start looking at her. You really ought to ask her what that’s all about at some point. “You know, it occurs to me that we may have made some sort of a mistake with our math in the blueprint. Maybe we ought to get Baljeet to double check it all for us.”

Last time you did _that_ was when you built the Anti-Gravity Fun Launcher a few weeks ago, and he’d said something about… you don’t know, cosines or something. (Math never was your strong point, anyway.) But it could very easily be the key thing here, too.

“Oh, great, and how long is _this_ going take now?” Candace asks.

You stand back up, wobbling a little, but feeling mostly okay again. “Shouldn’t take too much longer. We’ll just upload the plans onto our website and give Baljeet a call and see what he says. He works really fast anyway, and I’m sure he’d be especially willing considering the… extenuating circumstances here.”

“Extenuating circumstances, my triangular head,” Candace says under her breath. “Which should not be triangular at all.”

“Maybe I can also earn the _Listening to Complaints_ patch today,” Isabella remarks dryly. “It seems remarkably more and more feasible the longer I stand here.”

You’re not a hundred percent sure on what she means by that, but, hey, you’re all for supporting your friends in whatever they want. Carefully, so as to make sure you don’t trip and end up faceplanting again, you make your way across the yard to control panel of the Switcher. Ferb’s already turned the main power drive off, so the yard’s quite quiet again, but the dials are still reading.

Reading… absolutely normal.

The resistor circuit, too, looks completely ordinary, from the measurement on the gauge. You tap the glass lightly, wondering if the needle might abruptly jump elsewhere, but it does no such thing.

It’s all very strange, and Ferb only blinks at you when you look at him again.

“Well, looks like Baljeet it is,” you decide after a moment’s more thought. “If he goes through it, we can get confirmation on whether or not we actually need to revise our working theory or not. If we _do…_ ” inhaling deeply, you shrug. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, I suppose.”

“Cross that bridge when we get there,” Candace repeats quietly. “Well, great. Just great. More delays. I should’ve expected this, shouldn’t I? I’m just – oh, heck, who knows anymore? Maybe I’ll just get stuck like this forever. Permanently my little brother, because why not? Just gotta hope Jeremy doesn’t mind that I’ve suddenly _changed bodies_ and also lost three years. Because I’m _sure_ he’ll be totally okay with that, and definitely won’t dump me.”

You look back at your sister over your shoulder. “Candace… uh… I’m sure Jeremy… wouldn’t mind? I mean, you are still _you_ , right? And isn’t that the important part? What’s on the inside? Not that – not that that’s actually the issue at stake here? It probably _is_ just a issue with the math. You know Ferb and I have issues there sometimes.”

“Sarcasm, Phineas,” she mutters, pushing in front of you as she walks toward the house. “It was sarcasm.”

“Oh. Right.” You smile sheepishly. “Looks like you totally got me there, then. Good… job, I guess? I mean, you did totally get me.” She doesn’t answer – probably unable to hear you as she steps inside and lets the sliding glass door shut behind her.

She _did_ get you, though. It was pretty clever, too, ‘cause you could’ve sworn she-

Ferb clears his throat behind you, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Right. Baljeet. Come on, Isabella, let’s get this thing sorted out, shall we?”

The computer in the den is already on when you all get there. Dad’s got some painting stuff out on the desk again, so you’ve gotta carefully move it all aside, but that’s easy enough. Ferb pops the blueprint into the scanner, and with a few clicks, the upload is all complete.

Now you’ve just gotta sit back and wait for Baljeet’s call. Which, knowing him, won’t take long to come. Pushing the chair back away from the desk, you spin around to face Isabella and your brother. “So. Some weather out there, isn’t it?”

In just the short time you’ve been inside, the clouds in the sky have thickened to the point of almost completely overcasting it, darkening the view out the window so much that it almost seems like it’s evening already, instead of… eleven-seventeen in the afternoon, according to the den’s wall clock. (Though that clock is like four or five minutes slow, too.)

“It’s definitely going to rain,” Isabella agrees, following your gaze out the window. “You know, me and the Fireside Girls were wanting to get our _Extreme Survival_ patches at some point. I was thinking maybe later today after you got this whole business with your sister straightened out… but now there’s all this and the rain, so I guess we’ll just have to wait. Or whatever.”

“Oh, there’s no reason you’ve gotta let _nature_ stop you,” you reply, grinning. “Just work around it, and when that doesn’t do what you want, just remember that scientific laws aren’t really anything more than someone’s notes on how things _look_ like they work. There’s no actual guarantee anywhere, on any of it.”

“I guess?” Isabella shrugs. “But this a thunderstorm we’re talking about, not… faster-than-light travel or whatever.”

“Fair,” you concede, glancing at your brother. “Whatcha think, Ferb?”

He blinks.

“Well, of course – that’s a great idea.” You nod excitedly, your long hair flying everywhere until you stop to shove it out of your face (again.) “Imagine if we had a giant, like, biodome or something? We could use to simulate a whole range of environments, and even if it does rain, well, it would all be technically indoors, so we’d all be high and dry even so.” You pause for a moment, eyeing the darkening sky out the window.

Maybe it’ll be a lightning storm. Lightning is really cool-looking and great fun to watch. Especially with popcorn. It’s just like a fireworks show, only flashier and cooler.

“Would that still apply for your patch credit?”

“I… honestly don’t know,” Isabella says. “I’d have to look it up the handbook to be sure, but unless there’s a specific exclusion, I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t.”

“Awesome!” You pump your fist in the air, and also use the opportunity to spin around in the chair a few times, until you get a little dizzy. (Swivel chairs are also cool.) “Sounds like we know what we’re going to do, then.”

The landline phone on the desk rings abruptly, interrupting what else you were gonna say.

“Later,” you opt for instead as you pick it up. “What we’re gonna do later. Hey Baljeet, how you doing?”

* * *

 

_Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated_

_...after hours..._

 

This is going to be your best -inator ever, you can feel it. Practically in your bones, and definitely in your brain, because that’s… well, that’s where you feel things. Boy, Perry the Platypus isn’t going to know what hit him when he sees _this_ one. You’ve got a really clever trap, too, one that should definitely keep him nice and restrained while you monologue. And then he’ll escape, and the race will be on.

And you’re confident in your success _this_ time, too, at least mildly so.

Speaking of monologues, though (pun not intended – and by that you mean totally tended), you really ought to start writing out tomorrow's now that the -inator is finished. Maybe you’ll just behold at your own creation a little more first, though. It really is impressive, and your goody-two-shoes brother isn’t going to know what him tomorrow afternoon. You’ve rented every single drama film in the entire Tri-State Area and spent the last two weeks binging them all while collecting data on the ins and outs of how they work – what makes them tick. The science of poetic justice was not easy to calculate, but it’s worth it now to see the machine standing in front of you, complete, ready to be used at any moment to bolster you into rule.

And that’s best part, too, because not even _you_ will know, not until it happens. No, sir, the Poetic Justice-Inator is completely unpredictable in it’s own right, partly because as far as you could figure out from all those film dramas, poetic justice _is_ inherently unpredictable.

Kinda like you.

You should definitely make a note of that point and include it in tomorrow’s monologue. After all, Perry the Platypus, he can’t thwart what he can’t even _predict_ , right? Maybe that’ll give you the edge you need.And once you hit ‘Mayor Doofenshmirtz’ with this, he’ll be the one stifled under a truckload of movie-making cliché and that will definitely lead to you taking the mayorship from him.

Come to think of it, you haven’t really figured out _that_ part of the plan, but it’ll happen, you’re sure of it.

There’s three state-areas out there, just itching to be ruled over with an iron fist. Like yours. Yours – yours being the iron fist they’re itching for. They need you. Not specifically _iron_ , either, considering your prosthesis are made from titanium anyway?

There’s three state-areas out there, just itching to be ruled over with a titanium fist.

That’s also going in tomorrow’s monologue.

Though does sound catchier the first way.

Oh, well.

“NORM!” you yell at the top of your lungs into the penthouse. Where is that hunk of junk anyway? Never around when you need him for something, always around to screw things up when you don’t. Maybe in that room of his down the hall.

You don’t usually go in there except to get the broom and dustpan out afternoons and to sweep up after Perry the Platypus leaves. He always leaves such a _huge_ mess, too, and it takes ages for you to clean up and get the whole lab spic-and-span again for the next time. Which is pretty much always the next day, so it’s a whole lot of work that you’ve gotta do on daily basis. And that’s on _top_ of having to plan your -inator and interview the backup dancers and write your monologue and then buy supplies and-

“HERE I AM, DAD!” a sudden, booming voice interrupts you. Instantly you scowl, too, because you were _stewing_ and everyone knows not to interrupt a villain when he’s _stewing_. You were even wringing your hands and, still – just look at this. No respect. None. And there’s the other thing, too.

“I am _not_ your – oh, never mind.” You gesture back over your shoulder at the newly completed -inator resting just inside the lab floor, a few paces distant from the balcony. “I’ve finished tomorrow’s scheme, and it’s a good one, too. Now _you_ move the -inator out to the balcony – and not a scratch on it, mind you – while I get to work on the monologue.”

See, you’re already telling people what to do (though Norm isn’t really a ‘people’). Just goes to show who _really_ ought to be the ruler of the Tri-State Area, no?

…you. You’re referring to yourself there. And certainly not-

Why isn’t Norm doing anything? He’s just standing there, staring at you for some reason. You really _don’t_ get what he wants from you sometimes. Just crazy.

“You heard what I said!” you bark, waving in the -inator’s general direction. “The -inator, you walking scrap heap! Hit it!”

“HITTING IT,” he responds cheerfully, striding directly for your machine, the product of all your sweat and tears and blood of the last four… like, hours or somewhere vaguely in that timezone.

It’s when the useless robot raises his giant fist up in the air that you realize your mistake. Or your most _recent_ mistake, at least, not the whole idea of building a giant robot man in the first place, which was a mistake in it’s own right. (Seriously, why _haven’t_ you just shut him off at some point?)

Maybe it’s ‘cause your daughter seems to be okay with him. And you’d not want to upset her when it’s not, like, completely unavoidable. That… yeah, that does make sense.

All you can do is cringe in preparation for the crunching of metal and glass that follows. It’s much like what Perry the Platypus does every day, but the difference here is that _this_ isn’t Perry the Platypus, which is a significant difference indeed.

_CRUNCH_. Something shatters, and there’s an electric crackling as a burst of blueish light explodes out the barrel of the -inator. You watch in horror as the bulky battery pack you’d hooked up to the machine begins smoking, the bar lights on its side rapidly sliding down from the green all the way into the red.

“ _What are you doing_!” you shout, suddenly jarred into action by the first whiff of smoke reaching your nose. “You realize it takes fourteen hours to charge those batteries! And you – you just drained them to blast a shot off into outer space somewhere! How- what- you-”

Norm’s rigidly artificial smiling mouth slowly turns upside-down, accompanied by only an appropriate amount of mechanical whirring. “I’M SORRY, DAD.”

“Just – what – no!” You’re about _tired_ about of this silliness by now. There’s so much stuff yet to be done, and here you are having to repair your -inator before Perry the Platypus even _shows up_ at all. “I am _not_ your father, and you need to get out of here! Go!”

Perhaps he replies, perhaps he doesn’t. He _does_ stride away, though, which is definitely a good thing. You’ve dealt with far too much over the course of your life to be stopped from reaching your destiny – to rule the Tri-State Area – by a robot who’s a little too dumb for his own good, but darn it all, if it doesn’t make you mad sometimes.

It’s just good Vanessa’s not here right now, so you can yell all you want without worrying about disturbing her.

Well, monologue-writing will just have to wait. It’s already almost midnight, and you… you have an -inator to fix. Heaving a sigh, you collect your toolbox from the floor and open it up. Back to the endless grind.

_(11:44:02 PM) NWS Geostationary North American Telecommunications Satellite 12XoC Status: O.K._

 

_(11:44:23 PM) Transmissions normal._

 

_(11:45:12 PM) Receptions normal._

 

_(11:45:49 PM) Transmissions normal._

 

_(11:46:13 PM) Receptor Error: System Overload. Critical Meltdown Imminent._

 

_(11:46:17 PM) Diverting Emergency Meltdown Prevention Systems. Discharging excess power along concurrent geopositional location gridlines._

 

_(11:46:23 PM) Power discharged safely; operational status restored._

 

_(11:47:01 PM) Receptions normal._

 

_(11:47:44 PM) Transmissions normal._


	4. Thinking Not

This sucks. Majorly.

Also, your head is pounding really badly. If this keeps up, you’ll probably go dig around in the bathroom for some medicine to take, because it really does hurt. For some reason, it seems as the human body isn’t really capable of containing two minds within one body. Well, who would’ve guessed?

Who would’ve guessed – would’ve guessed that messing around with nature and breaking natural laws that were never meant to be broken would have nasty side effects? Of course, you’re not going to let them give up, but that probably won’t be a problem anyway, knowing your obnoxious brothers.

You’re perfectly willing to endure all the headaches in the world if that’s what it takes to switch back to your own body, obviously, but not being able to switch back and still getting this ache, it… well, it’s a very raw deal.

Not that you’re surprised by that, either.

As you lay sprawled out on your bad, staring off at the ceiling, large, heavy raindrops begin pounding at your windowpane, too. They come only occasionally at first, but gradually grow more and more frequent, until the entire window is awash with pelting rain.

To be fair: it wasn’t unexpected. The sky was steadily getting darker all throughout the earlier part of the day, though you (understandably) weren’t paying it very close attention while out there getting your brains fried out by whatever that useless machine was supposed to be anyway.

Whatever it was supposed to be, all it ended up being was a giant taser, of a sort. If you had wanted to get shocked to within an inch of your life, you’d have stuck your finger in an electrical socket or walked around outside with metal stilts during a lightning storm.

The really inconvenient part (that’s not immediately related to the fact that you’re in your brother’s body) is that you just had to end your conversation with Stacy to go out there for what turned out to be absolutely no reason at all. It’s lucky Phineas’ phone can send texts at all, though that’s all it can do – no pictures, no videos, but plain text messages. How does he even live with that normally? And to top it all off, it has one of those stupid numeric keypads that means you have to press the ‘1’ button seven times just to type a single uppercase C.

You’re not exactly sure why you’re not pulling it out again, though. It might be stupid, but it’s all you have for now, so you’ve gotta cope with it, right?

Okay, so… maybe you do feel a little bad for what is tantamount to straight-out deceiving your parents like this. Maybe you shouldn’t – after all, Mom already thinks you’re a habitual liar anyway, right? Not to mention that being punished at all for what happened last night is just… not fair.

But that’s the thing: you’re not a liar, as crazy as the stories are that you sometimes hear yourself telling are. And they’re not lies – that animation studio really did just get up and dance itself away. You saw it with your own eyes, after all. At least with that situation, you have a right to be mad. Heck, it’s basically a duty by this point. You’ve gotta keep at it, you can’t give up, and one day, you’ll vindicate yourself.

And if you-from-the-future thinks otherwise, well, she can just screw off, because she obviously hasn’t been through the things you’ve been. She definitely wasn’t forced to switch bodies with her brother like you are now, because you’re quite confident that no reasonable person could be in this situation and not feel like you do about it.

Except Phineas, apparently, but Phineas is… he’s the last person you’d ever expect to take anything seriously. (You’ve seen it happen, like, once all summer, on that trip ‘round the world you all went on.) So it’s that surprising that he doesn’t seem too bothered.

Maybe it would be nice to be able to be all dorky and unconcerned like he can be all the time. The only issue is that you can’t. Can’t because what would Jeremy think of you then? (And even if he didn’t say anything, but what would he be thinking on the inside?) Can’t because then your parents are never gonna believe you and everyone’s always gonna think of you as the crazy girl who shouts a lot, and if not to your face, then certainly behind your back.

(Because you’re not stupid, nor are you hard of hearing, and some of the whispers passed around back there get awfully loud at times.)

It’s kind of ironic, if you think about it. In order to prove that you’re not crazy, you have to be crazy – or at least act that way. Though you also have to be careful to not get too average, either, ‘cause then Jeremy might leave you for someone more interesting. And probably more well-balanced while he’s at it, too.

Irony or no, though, it does make you a little loath to just… casually subvert your parents’ direct order like that, for no real reason other than getting to talk with Stacy to pass the time. If busting was at stake, well, that’d be a bit of a different ball game.

Or maybe you’re overthinking things all too much and it’s simply the fact that you know you’re never gonna be able to read the tiny characters on Phineas’ phone’s screen with your head hurting like it is. Which is also true, no doubt – the screen is tiny, and the characters even tinier.

You heave a massive sigh, listening to thunder rumble in the distance, to the rain drumming on the roof. It looks a bit like you’re grounded anyway, whether you like it not – if not by your parents, then by the fact that you really don’t wanna have to leave the house in your brother’s body.

No one would probably recognize you, to be fair, as long as you kept to yourself and didn’t specifically say anything, but still. There’s something acutely wrong about this whole situation that still has you unsettled to your deepest core, and you’re not sure you’d be ready at facing the outside world with that feeling lurking in the pit of your stomach.

There’s not really a way to describe other than to say that it feels vaguely and unsettlingly different.

And (of course) your brothers are going to have you switched back before you have a chance to get used to being in his body, so that’s that, really. You… don’t doubt them, not really? All you have to do is think back to the track record they’ve got of things built.

(All things you failed to bust.)

One foul isn’t the end of the world, not where they’re concerned. Your brothers are your brothers, and they’ll figure it out in the end, right? They always do – they always have before this? You know perfectly well they’re not as big of failures as you are, not as prone to freaking out as you get sometimes.

Plus they were always the ones with all the luck, too, so it’s also perfectly likely that the solution will yet just fall into their lap any minute now. That’s the way it works, right? It’s the way it’s always worked. There’s no reason to seriously believe it would change now, is there?

Why would it? It – it wouldn’t, of course. Of course? You really, really, really-

All of the sudden your door swings open, interrupting your increasingly flurried thoughts. “Hey, Candace, we’ve gotten some advice on some mistakes we made in our calculations before and I think we’re about ready to go back out there whenever you’re feeling, you know, up to it.”

Your palms are slick and your heart beating all too rapidly as you cling to Mr. Miggins’ limp form, squeezing out even more of what little stuffing is still left inside him. The headache, at least, is mostly gone, but doesn’t mean the blood pounding through your ears is any less audible.

“...are you feeling alright, Candace?” your brother asks, his voice losing some of its excitement. He laughs for a moment, touching his own forehead. “That headache, yeah, it’s… it was pretty bad at first, wasn’t it? I, uh, I definitely know how that feels.”

“Mmm hmm,” you mumble under your breath, partly sarcastically and partly because it did hurt really bad, and though it’s lightened up a little by now, there’s still a dull throbbing behind your eyes that is refusing to go away even though you’ve done nothing but stare at the ceiling and listen to the rain for… however long it’s been.

“It’s pretty wild, isn’t it?” he continues, and you want to snap at him, really you do, but your head, it just… it hurts too badly. And, really, what more can you say that you haven’t already said? If he didn’t listen to you then, he’s not gonna listen to you now. He is Phineas, after all. “What with the whole body-switching and all that stuff.”

“Sure,” you grunt. “Pretty wild.” Because that’s the best description he has for this right now. You’ve somehow wound up literally in each other’s bodies and the best he has to offer is ‘pretty wild’.

Well, from his point of view, it probably is just that. After all, what’s he got to worry about, anyway? Certainly not keeping a boyfriend like you have, and you seriously doubt that this is going to… inspire Isabella to suddenly unveil her kiddie crush, either. You saw the way she was looking at Phineas earlier. It might’ve even been funny had you not been so miserable at the time.

“You know, I think I’ve pretty much gotten the hang of walking by now,” he adds, and then, as if to demonstrate, walks across your bedroom floor and sits down on the bed. Pushing his hair out of his face – because he still hasn’t brushed it, as you pretty much expected – he grins. “So that’s nice.”

You guess it would be nice to be able to walk around without tripping over your own two feet every thirty seconds, yes. Though it’s not something that’s really posed an issue to you in your brother’s body. His legs are… shorter than yours (by a considerable amount) but you just feel short and not particularly unbalanced. Still, Phineas is looking at you and probably waiting for some kinda answer, even though he didn’t really ask you a question. So you shrug again. “Yup.”

Which makes no sense as answer, but it’s a response, at least.

“Hey, don’t worry, we’re gonna get this all figured out in no time,” he says, adjusting his pajama pants as he scoots farther back onto the bed. “Ferb and I had Baljeet go over some of the more mathematically complex aspects of our metaphysical theory, and there were some errors with our dynamic quadratic integration that we made.” He rolls his eyes, smiling a little. “I’ve never been really great with math, you know.”

Well, that’s… certainly better news than nothing at all. And he is Phineas, and Ferb is Ferb, and everything will turn out fine in the end, right? They are your brothers, after all. When have you ever seen them fail – like, really fail?

The silence is awkward, though, and you need to find something to say.

“Those are my favorite pajamas, you know. And you’ve basically ruined them.”

Phineas blinks, and looks down at himself, at the huge, awful green stains smeared all across the purple outfit. “Oh,” he replies slowly, smiling sheepishly at you. “I… sorry about that. I’m sure there’ll be some way to get the stains out, though. It’s only grass, after all.”

“Sure.” You huff out an exasperated breath, and go to pull yourself up to a sitting position. The motion makes the aching in your head a little worse, and you wince a little, but it’s manageable. As discreetly as possible, you shove Mr. Miggins behind the nearest pillow, too. You… hadn’t really realized you were still holding onto him in front of your brother like that. Hopefully he didn’t notice. “I honestly don’t care about the pajamas, Phineas. Just so long as you get this thing fixed, you can ruin all my clothes if you’re feeling like it.” You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to appear… well, immature? Childish? in front of him, but it’s probably too late for that anyway.

And darnit, you just really need some reassurance right now, too.

“You are going to be able to fix us, right?”

Maybe you put a little bit too much desperation into the words, though. Faintly you wonder if it’s going to make you come off as needy – though in this case, you kind of are needy, because there’s nothing else you need, and nothing else you need more.

“I mean… as of right now? I don’t see why we wouldn’t,” he says. Which isn’t exactly the enthusiastic ‘of course’ you were kinda hoping for, but it’s also better than nothing at all. You’re not supposed to be… well, be Phineas, or whatever the term for all this is. You’re supposed to be yourself, to bust your brothers and date your boyfriend and try to juggle everything else around those two things. “You know, it’s funny, but this is kinda like what we talked about when we were on that trip around the world, isn’t it?”

You snort, mainly at his use of the word ‘funny’. “I don’t follow.” Which is in itself not an unusual circumstance, either. You’re the older sister, the one who’s going to bust them one day, the one who’s going to marry Jeremy Johnson (after dating through college and then have your two kids; Amanda and Xavier) but you’re also the stupid one.

Probably compared to anyone, and definitely compared to your brothers.

“Well, think about it,” he continues, gesturing first at you and then at himself. “To see someone you know in a certain way – like a teacher – and then suddenly see them at a grocery store or something. It’s super weird, ‘cause you’re like, woah, I never really thought of it, but yeah, he would… have a life of his own, parts of it that I never see. Parts were he eats and sleeps and uses the toilet, just like I do.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?” you echo. “I know you use the toilet, Phineas. You’re my brother. We live in the same house, you know.” And there’s part of you cannot wait till that is no longer the case, too, because you’re well aware that moving out (preferably with Jeremy) is the only way you’re ever going to get away from all the craziness. That, and busting them, which you’re also going to do, but it’s always good to have backup plans, right?

“Oh, of course.” He grins. “But if you’re feeling anything like I am, it’s a bit weird to… be literally seeing the world how you see it. Through your eyes, even. And it’s really cool in some ways, too, but also pretty weird.”

“I hope that’s not your point,” you interject dryly. “Because the whole point of your giant machine out there is supposed to be to straighten this whole mess out. Don’t tell you’re gonna try and get all moral-of-the-story on me here.” You scowl at him. “I have legitimate reasons to be freaked out over this, okay? And I know you’ve always been able to fix everything at the last second before, but… well, this isn’t something that’s just going to publicly and painfully humiliate me in some way if you mess up. It would literally ruin my life.”

“Don’t worry, sis,” he repeats. “We’ll get it. It’s – it’s real nasty outside-” and it only takes a single glance out your window to confirm that to the fullest extent “-but we’ll figure it out. I’m pretty sure we’ve already got it, actually, now that Baljeet’s looked over our blueprints for us. We just have some repairs to make.”

“Then why aren’t you out there making them?” you snap. Always delaying, always dragging their feet – but only when it comes to doing things that would help you. Though you do feel a little bad about it the moment later, even though the look on your brother’s face is enough to tell you he completely missed the edge you couldn’t keep out of your tone. “You – you know you won’t melt, right?” you add lamely, a little softer.

Phineas does, to his credit, look at least vaguely uncomfortable. “Well, partly because it is really nasty with the thunder and the lightning and we were hoping it would lighten up at least a little if we waited for a bit. But also… well, when I just came up here to tell you, you looked… really down.”

“Oh, gee, I wonder why,” you return, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for noticing, I guess.” Though he did notice, didn’t he? He also noticed on that trip around the world when you got so depressed after seeing Jeremy with all those French girls (and they were all so much prettier than you are, what with your long neck and bright orange hair and… and also the fact that none of that applies right now because you’re your brother and you’re at least fairly sure Jeremy won’t date you while you’re inside a twelve-year-old boy’s body, no matter how unchanged your mind and your feelings for him actually are.)

Not to mention he and Ferb apparently both took notice of you getting grounded so unfairly last night, which was the last thing you’d have expected them to take notice of or care about. But they did – and even defended you, according to Mom and Dad. Which was… well it’s surprising, to say the least.

You never really figured they’d care about you getting grounded – they certainly didn’t seem to care very much last night, and they never really seem to care at all when bad things happen to you. Like the time you fell off that cliff into those snakes and scorpions and cacti.

Or the time you got struck by lightning.

Or the time you got dragged down the road behind those motorized chariots.

Or the time you got stuck in that rocket-powered kiddie ride and kinda almost died.

Or the time you got attacked and then chased through town by all those animals.

Point being, you could go on. You could make a list. And you kind of already have. Those things never seem to faze your brothers any, even though they hurt like all get-out. (Actually, you still have that big red mark across the back of your shoulders from when you got stuck falling down that upwards-going escalator when your family took that trip to Hawaii. That – that… when they finally turned the escalator off that night, you couldn’t even stand up for like an hour - which, of course, meant laying on the bottom of the escalator in a pile, in the dark, all by yourself, unable to stop crying because it just hurt so bad all over).

Would’ve appreciated somebody sticking around for you then, for sure. But oh, no, there was no one there, was there?

It rankles a little bit, for them to be so random about when they care that you’re hurting and when they don’t. And you really can’t explain why or how it works – there’s no pattern or anything that you’ve ever seen. It’s just like sometimes they… don’t even notice. And other times they do.

It makes no sense.

Though it is at least… nice that this happened to be one of the times when he did notice. ‘Cause at least now you’ve got someone noticing one your problems, right? It’s better than nothing.

“Candace, you know it’s gonna be okay, right?” He smiles at you, shrugging. “I mean, remember all the stuff that happened on that trip ‘round the world we did? And we still made it – just in the nick of time, mind you – but we did make it. And I doubt we’ll have to worry about half so many obstacles here as there.”

That trip was a disaster in a whole heck of a lot of ways, yeah. Though it was also success, too, because that was the day when you and Jeremy finally started dating ‘officially’. And your first kiss, too, which you… honestly you only vaguely remember anything that happened at that ‘Welcome Home’ party because you were really, really, really just dead tired by that point, but your kiss – your first kiss, even – still definitely happened.

“I’m sure it will be,” you mutter. “Everything works out for you in the end, though. How’s that a surprise anymore, even? Oh, no you’ll turn out completely fine, somehow. It’s only me who has to worry about something happening in the end.”

Phineas scratches at the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I…” His voice trails off a little, as if he’s not entirely sure what to say. And then he smiles at you. “Well, you haven’t forgotten about the transitive property of belief yet, have you?”

“No, no I haven’t,” you say, exhaling loudly. “But a fat lot of good believing in myself has done for me so far, hasn’t it? It certainly hasn’t gotten me one bit closer to busting you guys to Mom than I’ve ever been.” You catch yourself reaching out to grab Mr. Miggins and hug him to you again, and ball your hand into a fist instead, smacking it into your other palm. You’re not exactly sure why you’re telling Phineas this anyway – what’s he gonna do, bust himself? You’ve already tried that, and the Mysterious Force doesn’t seem to care who it is busting. Either that, or it’s just taunting you with your continued failure, which, sure – that’s also perfectly likely. (And just as fair as anything else the Force does to you.)

“Well, believing in yourself is only part of the equation,” he continues, smiling again – or maybe he just never stopped in the first place. You don’t know; you weren’t paying attention. “The other half is really just getting out there and trying, you know? Giving it your best shot - seize the day.”

You – you really don’t know whether to laugh or cry by this point. “Give it my best shot?” you mutter instead, clenching and unclenching your fists. “Oh, yeah, thanks for that little nugget of wisdom right there. Because that’s not what I’ve been doing every single day of this summer so far, and every day before that, practically as far back as I can remember. Surely not.”

He nods. “Maybe so. Not even maybe – I know so, I mean, I see you trying to spread the word every day, and I think you do an awesome job at it, even though we’ve never asked you to do anything of the sort.” He pauses, giving you a brief moment to confusedly wonder what exactly he’s talking about anyway. ‘Spreading the word’? That… you’ve never done any such thing, as far as you’re aware? Yet here he is, looking as serious as ever, and you don’t know what he’s talking about at all.

Could he – what if he actually means your busting habits?

No, that’s ridiculous. You’re well aware your brother is oblivious sometimes (or most of the time), but that’s not oblivious, that’s just… that’s just straight-up blind. It’s not like you try to be secretive, and you literally just spelled it out for him not two seconds ago. And yet… it’s so strange.

“But here’s the thing,” he resumes, abruptly interrupting your thoughts. It’s just as well, because you had no idea where you were going with that anyway. “Ferb and I try to make every single day the best day ever, you know? In every single way we can.”

Yes, you’re definitely well aware of that concept. And also the dubious definition of ‘best day ever’ they seem to have, too.

“But just because yesterday was awesome doesn’t we’re not gonna try again today, and if we succeed today, we’re still do it again tomorrow. Every day is brand new, after all – a new shot at making it the best day ever.” The enthusiasm in his voice is getting more and more easy to hear as he shifts slightly, turning to face you directly where you’re sitting on the bed. “What would you think would be the best day ever, hmm?”

You blink, not sure how to actually respond. The best day ever? It could be a lot of things, couldn’t it? Finding a bajillion dollars out in the street somewhere. Jeremy proposing to you, too. Maybe somebody looking at one of the ideas you have for once, instead of constantly passing you over to ooh and ah over your brothers and their fancy, dangerous contraptions.

Speaking of those fancy, dangerous contraptions, though…

“Well?” he urges you.

Okay, you don’t have to think that hard about it, not really. Yeah, it’d be nice if you found loads of money on the side of the road, and you’d be so happy you’d probably have a heart attack if Jeremy actually did something like that… but none of those would have to happen for you to call a day the ‘best one ever’, either. All you really want is something much, much simpler.

“If I – If I could just get Mom to see what you and Ferb do – to bust you for it,” you say. “If I could do that, then it would definitely count as the best day ever.” For you. It… wouldn’t probably be that for your brothers, what with the whole getting in trouble thing, but for you? Yeah, there’s no contest.

You do feel a little guilty for so unceremoniously shoving Jeremy to the back of your mind in favor of busting, but you really can’t even entertain the idea of ordering your wishes in any other way. Jeremy doing whatever he wants would probably be great, but unless he's gonna be busting your brothers for you…

… it’s not even close.

It’s why you have to leave him hanging so often. Definitely sucks, but you really don’t have a choice, do you?

“Yes!” Phineas jumps up from his seat. Doesn’t look he’s having many issues balancing now. “And do you really want that?”

“I… do?” you reply, wonderingly. Of course you do. It’s the only thing that’s kept you going sometimes.

He grins, reaching out one hand to you as he pushes his hair out of his face again. “Then what’re you waiting for? It’s time to seize the day, sis. Every day is brand-new, after all. Gotta make that best day ever, and make it every day!”

“I...” you hesitate. You _would_ like that, but there’s the issue with the Mysterious Force and the fact that you’re still in your brother’s body, and you really should wait till-

“Come on, sis.” He motions you to take his hand. “The best day ever isn’t gonna happen if you just think about it. Just think: how awesome is it gonna be when you finally make it?”

“It – it would be pretty nice,” you admit.

“Pretty nice?”

“Okay, it would be more than nice, yeah.” You can feel an awkward crooked smile on your face. “It would… I don’t know what I’d do, honestly. But it would be… amazing.” It would be. Huh. Maybe your brother isn’t entirely wrong after all.

“Then let’s do this,” he enthuses, grinning. “There’s time to waste! We’re burning daylight – let’s get out there and make this the best rainy day ever.”

The best rainy day ever. The best rainy day ever, because it’s the rainy day on which your brothers are busted. The more you think about it… the more you feel like you can get behind it, yeah. You steal a quick glance out your bedroom window. Through the driving sheets, you can see that huge metal machine is still there, still rooted firmly in the backyard.

Huh.

“The best rainy day ever,” you repeat slowly. “Your bust day.”

“Exactly – well, Bus Day isn’t for a while yet, but we can always get an early start on that, too.”

“If I actually managed to pull this off…” you hesitate a little. “But I don’t know. I mean, how many times have I failed trying to do this exact same thing before?”

“Ah, but there’s the important part,” Phineas interrupts, taking your hand and practically pulling off the bed. “Have you tried today?” You shake your head. “Then there’s no telling until then. We’re gonna make the best day ever, and no random body-switching’s gonna be able to stop that.”

That’s as a good a point as you care to try refuting, honestly. There’s something about the way he grins that’s a bit contagious, and before you know it, you’re smiling, too. “No, no it won’t.” No, no it won’t. You’ve got Phineas’ phone. You’ll track down Mom. You’ll find her. You’ll drag her home.

The boys’ll be busted. They’re going down, and they’re going down today. It’s going to be the best day ever, your brother’s right. Because this is the day that you win. Last night, after all, you were wishing for a chance, a single crack at this, except with your brother’s luck behind you. Somehow, someway, you’ve gotten that chance.

And you’re not gonna waste it, either.

“You’re right, Phineas – you’re right!” You’re getting excited now, rubbing your palms together and unable to keep down the giggles that rise up from the back of your throat.

“That’s right, sis!” he agrees. “You do that, and me ‘n Ferb ‘n Isabella’ll fix up the Switcher, and then we’ll meet in the backyard and this body situation straightened out. Sound like a plan to you?”

“A plan? A plan?” You’re giggling again, and you can’t help it. “It sounds like a first-rate, grade-A opportunity to me, boy, I – I -” Wait, why are you even standing around here? Every second you waste is a second spent not tracking down Mom. It’s all about the speed with this stuff. The faster, the better, and there’s no one faster than you, and you’ve never been more motivated for speed than right now.

Today started out terribly. But you’re determined now, determined that you’re not gonna let it end that way.

Without wasting another second, you wheel about your heel and dart off, digging down into your pocket for Phineas’ phone as you run. Through the hallway, and down the stairs, past Ferb and Isabella in the den. The phone, out of your pocket now, and you’re punching in Mom’s number.

Five. Five. Five. Three. Seven. Two. Nine. Oh. Oh. Two. Dial.

A sharp left turn through the kitchen, into the mudroom. The phone’s ringing in your hand.

Your hand on the doorkn- the doorknob’s not turning. You scowl, trying harder, but it keeps trying to turn the other direction. Oh, wait, doesn’t that – there’s someone on the other side? It’s too bad you’re too short to see out the peephole as it is now. Whatever – it’s probably only more of your brother’s dorky friends anyway.

“Phineas?” Mom’s voice comes out the phone’s speaker. “Is everything alright?”

“Mom!” you exclaim, raising it to your ear, dropping your hold on the doorknob to let whoever’s out there open it instead. “Mom, where are you? You’ve gotta tell me where you-” the door swings open, and you start to push past them, heading outside into the rain. “-are! Is it downtown?” Are you gonna need your bike – Phineas’ bike, whatever? You pull the phone away from your mouth by an inch or two “Hey, pal, move outta my – my – my-”

You can’t move. Mom is saying something back to you, but you can’t hear anything more than a faint tinny warbling from the speaker.

“Uh… Phineas?” Jeremy asks, raising one eyebrow. “Are – are you feeling okay?”

Your mouth is open, but you’re acutely aware that there’s no sound coming out. No interpretable sound, at least. “I… uh… umm… uhhhhh… well…” Your thoughts are racing, but at the same time, you just can’t think of anything to say. And at the same time, you can think of things to say – can think of a thousand things to say, but your tongue feels like it’s made of cotton and it won’t cooperate with you.

“Is something wrong?” Jeremy asks slowly. “Phineas?”

He doesn’t know. Of course he wouldn’t. He’s Jeremy, after all.

“No!” you finally manage to stammer. “It’s fine! Everything’s fine! I swear!”

“...alright?” Jeremy doesn’t look entirely convinced, but being the perfect boyfriend he is, he seems to accept it anyway. “So… is your sister around somewhere?”

This – this is why you wanted him to stay away. “No!” you repeat. Can’t have Phineas ruining your reputation with your boyfriend, and you’re not stupid enough to believe that he won’t. Because he will – he’s Phineas, after all. You can see more questions in Jeremy’s eyes, though, and that means you can’t stop talking or he’ll ask you something. And it might not be something you have an answer to. “She’s, uh-” What do you do again? “-at – at the mall! With Stacy! Shopping! You know, like I, uh, like she does. Its, uh, it’s boring girl stuff?”

Jeremy opens his mouth – and you’ve only just remembered that you’ve yet to let him in off the porch – but before he can so much as get a single word out, you hear a footstep behind you, followed closely by the sound of your own voice.

You cringe in unrestrained horror. Everything’s starting to unravel and for the life of you, you can’t stop it.

“Hey, Candace, who’s at the door?”

No, no, you can stop it, and you will. You’re not going to let this happen. You can’t let this happen. There’s your plan – you’re gonna date through college and marry and then have Xavier and Amanda and-

Blinking, Jeremy looks past you – right over top of your head. “Oh, hey, Candace? I… nice outfit?”

Nice outfit? Nice- oh crap. Spinning around on your heel, your eyes widen as the you see, perhaps the first time, just how awful your brother looks, his hair all disheveled, in his pajamas, pajamas that are smeared all over with massive green stains that you’re never going to be able to get out of the fabric.

But your doomed pajamas are like the least important thing right now. You can not, and will not let your brother humiliate you like this in front of your boyfriend. You’ve gotta do something, and fast – and drastic.

Fortunately, you have a plan. Who said you’re not good at thinking on your feet? You’re the best at it – the very best.

Also, Mom’s still on the phone with you, too. That’s… that’s mildly important, but not quite so important as this, right now. First, you deal with Jeremy, and then you deal with Mom.


	5. Knowing What You're Doing

“ _SorryMomgottagobye_!” you rush into the phone’s speaker, hastily pressing the END button before she has a chance to respond. (You’re going to hear from her about that, you know very well.) And then you slam the front door, shutting Jeremy out. “Just a minute!”

“Wait, what’s going on?” you can hear him ask, his voice muffled by the door.

“Alright, come on, Phineas, let’s go.” You grab your brother's hand and drag him quickly through the house. Well, it might be less of you dragging than him just following – but either way works in the end. “Ferb, do me a favor and go let Jeremy in,” you call out as you pass the den. “But don’t let him come upstairs, understand?”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Now Phineas is the one asking you, but there’s no time to waste on stupid questions like that, especially not when he really should be able to guess. If he wasn’t Phineas, he would be able to, too. “Candace?”

“Just shut up and do as I say!” you growl, pulling him up the stairs in the direction of your bedroom. “You can’t be seen like this, not by Jeremy, not ever.”

“Wait, but why?” He still sounds genuinely puzzled (somehow), though you can’t say you’re particularly surprised, either. Your brother can be so blind sometimes you wonder how he can see his hands in front of his face.

It doesn’t matter, though, not particularly, because you don’t intend to give him a choice about this, nor to leave anything up his (horrific) powers of perception. You’ve reached your bedroom by now, pulling him in behind you and kicking the door shut with your foot. For this to work, you’re not gonna have much time. “Because that’s Jeremy – my boyfriend – down there, and you’re gonna make me look like an idiot, and then he’s gonna dump me for it. At least, you would, but I’m not gonna let you.”

“Huh?” Phineas echoes from behind you as you yank open your closet doors and start digging through for, well, any sort of outfit that would acceptable. Which is most of them, considering nine out of ten are exactly the same. “I thought – why don’t you just tell him that, you know, I’m not you? That you’re you, just… temporarily in my body instead? Wouldn’t that solve the issue?”

“Right,” you scoff. “Because Jeremy’s definitely going to want to date me when I’m in twelve-year-old boy’s body. I fail to see how that could backfire in any way, shape, or form.” Ah, there. You’ve found a good outfit – not perfect, perhaps, but you’re also running out of time, so it’ll have to work. Hopefully Jeremy really doesn’t mind that you pretty much wear the same clothes every day. He’s never said anything about it before, and he does it too, but, see, these are things you just don’t know until it’s too late.

“Candace, I don’t-”

Snatching the shirt and skort off their hangers, along with your belt, you turn around, facing your brother and the distinctly uncomfortable expression clearly etched onto his features. He’s reluctant, for some reason (and there’s a voice in the back of your head whispering that it’s specifically to make things difficult for you), but you really, really, really just don’t have time for this, and certainly not right now, of all times, when Jeremy is literally waiting on you, something he should never have to do.

“Phineas, please,” you practically beg. “Look, I – I promise, I’ll make it up to you somehow, but please, please just do this for me, okay?” You really hate this – having to go to your little brother for help – but you don’t have much of a choice either. “This is just – it’s really important to me, and I can’t have it ruined. I – I don’t know what I’d do if that happened. Just work with me on this, okay?”

He hesitates for another painfully long moment, then grimaces a little, but finally shrugs. “O – okay, I guess? If it’s that important to you-”

“-it is,” you interject. “It really, truly, a hundred and ten percent is.”

“Alright, then,” he takes a breath. “If you – if you say so, sis. What do you need, again?”

Yes. Okay, first step down, only about a hundred steps left to go. But you’re not gonna fail – you can’t fail. “First things first,” you say, chucking the outfit in your arms at his chest. “Get the heck out of those horrid pajamas and into some decent clothes.” He blinks, and you clap your hands together. “Come on, Phineas! Chop chop! We don’t have time to waste – if this is gonna work, we’re gonna have to move, like, cartoonishly fast.” You’ve already crossed your bedroom floor, plucking your hairbrush out of your vanity drawer. There’s no time to completely brush out his hair, but darnit if you’re not gonna at least make a token effort to straighten out the worst of the snarls.

“Wait, Candace, change? Here? I thought-”

“I know what I said!” you retort. “What, do you think it’s something I’ve never seen before? It’s my body, you dork. And forget what I said, before – this is what we’re doing now, and you’re doing it fast, you hear?” Oh, come on! What is it with Phineas and getting the cold feet at these random times all the sudden? It’s not like him to act like this, and it’s getting on your nerves. “Come on, Phineas,” you repeat, a little more softly. “You said you’d help me, didn’t you?” Sheesh, how many times are you gonna have to say ‘please’ at this rate? You’re losing time with every second he just stands there and stares at you.

“Right, right,” he replies, finally starting to move (and it’s about time.) “I guess I did say that. Okay, here goes.” He flashes you a slightly-less-enthusiastic-than-normal smile, and you put your hands on your hips impatiently as he strips off the pajamas and begins pulling on the clothes you picked out.

To his credit, at least, he doesn’t hesitate much longer – which is relieving, as you’ve hardly got the time for that – even when changing. You have to admit that you’re at least vaguely curious in a morbid sort of way what he’s thinking, but you’d never actually ask him that. Of course, your brother being… who he is, you doubt he understands why exactly you’re embarrassed about it anyway.

Maybe it’s better that way, though. If it was, say, Ferb, you – you don’t know if you could handle the stony gazes without ever being sure what he means behind them.

Not that Phineas has a particularly strong reaction at the moment either, which you’re not sure is better or worse than, say, some sort of exaggerated embarrassment at the sight of your body in nothing but underwear.

(Probably better, if only for the fact that it means it’ll be over quicker.)

You can’t help but wince at the pile of pajamas lying on the floor next to his feet – they’re pretty much more green that purple by this point. Also, it’s mildly weirder a feeling than you expected to literally watch yourself change, mainly because it makes you feel like you’re looking into a mirror even though you’re doing no such thing. Well, you’d rather not think about that right now anyway. There are more important things at stake right now than your dignity – not that you had much of that left anyway after the way this summer’s been going.

_Hope you appreciate this, Jeremy_ , you think, even though you’re well aware you’d never dare hold him accountable for anything, much less something like this. _I’m doing it all for you._

The instant Phineas’s successfully pulled up his skort and picked up his belt to begin putting it on, you’re back in action, climbing up onto your bed so you can more easily reach his hair.

“What’re you doing now?” he asks, as you stick the brush into his hair and give it a firm yank. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” you curtly half-apologize, tugging on the snarl.

“Ow, Candace!” he protests again, as you finally get it through, only to run into another one a few inches downward. It’s worse than it looks, though you’re not being as... gentle as you are when it’s attached to your own head, either. “Ow, okay, can you – that hurts! What are you doing?”

“Suck it up,” You mutter under your breath. Seriously, when did your brother get so wimpy anyway? But you know you’re fighting a losing battle with the clock anyway, so you take one more violently quick stroke down the length of his hair to hopefully at least help a bit with the worst of the tangles, and then chuck the hairbrush onto your bedroom floor to the sound of another of his protestations.

Hopping down from the bed, you peer up into his face, realizing all too late that he (obviously) didn’t put your acne medication on this morning. You... can’t exactly tell if it’s made a noticeable difference or not, but it worries you anyway because it might well be.

It’s too late to fix now, though, and you certainly can’t have your brother facing your boyfriend with that white cream smeared all over his face.

“Okay, listen up,” you say instead, as much in an attempt to stifle your own nervousness as anything else. “Here’s what you’re gonna do for me, alright? You’re go gonna go down there and-” you hesitate, partly because you really don’t want to do this, and he still almost looks like he just rolled out of bed, but there’s not really a choice, and you’re about out of time anyway. “You’re going to go down there and you’re going to talk to Jeremy for me – you’re going to be me. I don’t-” glancing out the window again, you grimace at the pounding rain “-I don’t think he’s going to want to actually go anywhere, but heck if I know anything anyway. And it doesn’t matter – he’s Jeremy, so he wants to go out, then you’re going out, you hear?”

Phineas does not look particularly keen on the plan by the time you’ve finished speaking, holding his palms up in front of his chest. “You want me to go out with Jeremy? I-”

“No,” you interrupt, trying to keep your voice level even as you quickly glance behind you at the door, hoping that it doesn’t suddenly fly open and reveal… well, by this point anyone would be bad, even if it was just Ferb. (You’re not sure why, but you have the feeling your other brother wouldn’t be any more enthusiastic about the idea either. Not that his opinion matters anyway, as he would hardly understand all the… complexities of the relationship you have with Jeremy.) “ _I’m_ going on a date with Jeremy, or at least hopefully not-” now there’s a phrase you don’t think you’ve ever said before “-but if he wants to, then I darn well am whether I like it or not. And because today you’re the one in my body, I guess you’re the lucky winner.” You pause, frowning. “Also, please tell me you put on deodorant this morning?”

“Deodor-”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, gosh, you didn’t! Please – please don’t tell me you didn’t!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” he exclaims, turning up his palms and smiling in some vague attempt at an apologizing gesture. “I, uh, I didn’t even think about it? You know that I don’t need it yet, and I guess I’m just not in the-”

“I don’t care what you guess!” You throw your arms in the air in exasperation, wheeling around and digging through your vanity drawers again. “Well, this’ll have to do for now. You’ll never get it all out without showering, but we don’t have time for that.” Scowling angrily, you throw the stick across the room at your brother, and he only just barely manages to catch it as he smiles awkwardly at you again. “Put it on – put on a ton. No, more. More! More!”

“You know Ferb and I could probably build some kind of a-”

“What makes you think this is an appropriate time to talk about your stupid _inventions_?!” you burst, opening the drawer where you keep most of your electronic stuff. Your laptop’s in here, along with your camera and it’s where you also keep your headphones – headphones, and also your earbuds, specifically the ones without wires to make them obvious. It might be a long shot, but it’s the only shot you’ve got to take. “Trust me, Phineas, I know more about relationships than you ever will, and this is the only way to make this work.”

“Stu… well, I guess you do? I guess? I don’t think I’d call them stupid, but if you – you say so?” He pauses for a moment, but you’re too busy trying to pair your wireless earbuds with the headset and mic you use for online gaming to pay much closer attention than that. “Well, I think I’ve used about all the rest of this deodorant by now. Is that – that is enough, right?”

“It’ll have to do,” you mutter, brushing him off as he tries to hand the stick back to you. Like he says, he has pretty much ground it all the way down to its plastic base, but that’s not an issue – you’ll just have to get Mom to buy you more sometime soon. “Just gotta hope that Jeremy doesn’t notice that you – that I – stink.” That’s the important part, of course. Because, for all intents and purposes, you’re about to rely on your brother to be you, with all the risks that entails for both you and your relationship with Jeremy.

He lifts one arm a little sniffs beneath it, then visibly recoils. “No, no, you can definitely smell the deodorant. That’s… wow, that’s strong. Maybe I put on too mu-”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” you cut him, closing the gap between you and him in about five steps, in order to shove your earbuds into his hands. “Here. Put one of them in one of your ears.” You pat the headset hanging loosely around your neck. “I’ll watch you from, I don’t know, behind a chair or something. And I’ll tell you what to do, and you’ll do it, and if you don’t mess anything up and I’m super lucky, then this’ll go just fine, and Jeremy will never be the wiser, and the day will be saved after all.”

Phineas still isn’t looking absolutely thrilled, but at least he appears to be past protestation of your orders, too. Though he does still shake his head. “Can I just ask why we just don’t tell him-”

“Sssssssssh!” you frantically caution, waving your arms, and then grabbing his wrist nearest you, trying (mostly in vain) to pull him down to your height. (Have you mentioned how much you hate being this short recently? Seriously? It sucks.) “Look here, Phineas. We’re doing this as I say, you understand? Because this is my relationship and my boyfriend and my body, and that means I get the final say. You got it?”

When it comes to things that involve you as intimately as… all this, then he can bet his rear end that you’re gonna be the one in charge. And, come on, the fact that he would even ask you something like that is proof that you have to be anyway, even if you didn’t want to (never gonna happen).

Jeremy’s a great boyfriend, really, but you’re a realist above all else. Which is something else you kinda have to be to survive in your family, but whatever. You know that Jeremy, who is, at heart, a mostly ordinary person, can put up with a lot. He puts up with you, after all.

But he wouldn’t put up with this, would he? The realization that his girlfriend is suddenly in a boy’s body – in her younger brother’s body, no less? You doubt it, but even more importantly, you can’t be certain that this _wouldn’t_ be the final straw for him.

And that is not something you’re willing to risk – not even if you have to delay your brothers getting out there to fix their machine or whatever. Ferb can do it just fine by himself, right? Probably.

“I…” Phineas shakes his head, looking mildly conflicted for a moment or two before finally faintly smiling at you. “Sure, I guess. Whatever you say, sis. You’re the boss.”

“That’s right.” It does feel good to hear him admit it. As it should – after all, it’s only right. You are the older sibling, after all, and too often it seems like everyone’s forgotten that. (Which is isn’t helped by the fact that you’re always having to run to your little brothers for crap anyway? And it’s always stuff that’s their fault, too – it’s like they’re purposefully out to humiliate you sometimes.) “And I’m saying that this is what we’re doing.” You grin confidently – probably more confidently than you’re actually feeling inside, but that’s not something you can let stop you. “I know what I’m doing, Phineas. Trust me.”

He nods. “Right.”

You tap the microphone on your headset. “Can you hear me?”

“I can.”

Taking a deep breath, you try to compose yourself – mostly by thinking about anything except what you’re about to do right now. It doesn’t work, not in the slightest, and your stomach is feeling so full of butterflies that you almost can’t believe they’re not fluttering out your mouth by now with the rate your gut is churning. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost suspect your lactose intolerance is acting up to something you’ve eaten.

It’s none of those things, of course – it’s Jeremy, and you’re starting to sweat out from under your arms again. Or at least you normally do, at this stage. Strangely, both your armpits are entirely dry… probably another Phineas’-body thing, if you had to guess.

“Let’s do this, then,” you say, barely able to keep your voice from cracking. Embarrassed, you grab ahold of your brother’s wrist again and fling your bedroom door open in a… probably less than gentle way, dragging him out behind you into the hall. Once there, and sure that no one’s spying on you, you lower your voice confidentially. “Look, this is gonna be real easy, you understand? Just do exactly as I say.”

This was always going to be the hardest part of the plan – convincing your stubborn little brother to take his ‘great’ ideas and shove them up where the sun doesn’t shine for at least a little while. But considering everything hanging in the balance, you literally have no other choice. It’s not like you didn’t consider other options, after all – you did, for like fifteen seconds or so.

But seriously, what else are you supposed to do at this point?

You shove your brother in the direction of the stairs. “Well? Go! Get a move on!”

“Right, right,” he says, abruptly starting down the stairs.

Exasperation so strong you want to roll your eyes all the way back into your head and nervousness so intense you want to run and hide in the panic room are not emotions you usually feel at the same time, but boy if you aren’t feeling them both right now.

Arriving in the living room and seeing Jeremy sitting there on the couch definitely shifts it in favor of the latter, though, and it’s only because he eyes are immediately drawn to your brother and not you that you can even stand it at all.

He’s sitting on the couch in between Ferb and Isabella, and looks distinctly uncomfortable, even when he speaks. “Am I… is this a bad time or something? I can come over some other time if you-”

“No!” you exclaim, unable to help yourself. And then Jeremy looks at you, looking even more confused than before, and you realize that you’ve just screwed up. “I mean, uh, my… sister here, she-” ‘she’s’ standing there staring like an idiot, that’s what ‘she’s’ doing – does your brother have not even the smallest ounce of – of anything that could help right now? “-she just had to use the bathroom, that’s all! Isn’t that right, Candace?” You shove him a step or two forwards, closer to Jeremy. (Also, you really shouldn’t have brought it up, but you said it, and now you kinda have to pee yourself.)

Phineas still doesn’t say anything, so you kick him in the shin. This won’t be the first time you’ve ignored the urge to relieve yourself in an effort to keep your dates with Jeremy smooth – they’re interrupted often enough by your brothers, after all. Your bladder has no such priority.

“Hi!” he yelps, scratching behind his ear as if he’s suddenly got lice. “Jeremy! Hi! Yes!”

Jeremy raises an eyebrow, and looks like he’s about to say something, but you jump in before he gets the chance, vigorously gesturing for Ferb and Isabella to get the heck off the couch and follow you up the stairs or into the kitchen or wherever – it doesn’t matter, so long as it’s out of eye-and-earshot of Jeremy. “Well, it just so happens that my brother and I, we were just leaving weren’t we?” You glare, and drop all pretense of subtlety by pointing up the stairs. “We have a, uh, a thingy to fix, now don’t we? Hmm?”

Ferb’s just staring – staring directly into your eyes from across the room, not even moving a single eyelash, his face utterly unreadable, and yet somehow you still get the feeling he doesn’t approve. Even though, really, it’s none of his business in the first place. You scowl at him, but the only response you get at all is for him to stand up, still staring as silent as a signpost.

Isabella, at least, gives you a response of some kind, even if she doesn’t look terribly thrilled either. “Right. Here… I come.” At the same time, though, her eyes are demanding an explanation from you – one that you’re perfectly happy to give, but only once you’re all safely away from Jeremy.

Thankfully, the both of them do follow you upstairs and once safely in the hall, you first double-check to ensure nobody followed you up, then turn to face them.

“So, Candace… how are you?” you hear Jeremy say through your headset.

“Good!” you hiss into the mic.

“Good!” your brother repeats mechanically.

“Okay, what’s going on here?” Isabella demands, putting her hands on her hips. “I thought you – Phineas? Or are you still-”

“No, I’m still Candace,” you interrupt. “Look-”

“No, I’m still Candace,” your brother’s voice echoes through your mic, and you very nearly can’t resist the urge to just bury your face in your hands. “Look? Look.”

“I… yes, I would hope so?” Jeremy replies hesitantly. He half-laughs in a way that just screams discomfort to you, despite you not being able to see his face at the moment.

Sometimes you really do wonder how on earth your brother manages to get out of bed in the morning without tripping over his own two feet – he surely can’t be that oblivious, right? Though by now you’re also aware that in regards to Phineas… you’re really just tempting fate by asking at all.

Isabella shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking at you in disbelief. “Are you – are you trying to pull some sort of a – what are you doing?” The little girl hardly looks like she’s got an extreme amount of patience left with you, and you really can’t take the chance she’ll do something stupid and mess this whole delicate situation up. You wouldn’t say she deserves an explanation – she’s only kid, after all, and you’re, well, you’re practically an adult by now, and you don’t need to explain yourself to her, of all people. “Candace!” she snaps.

You jump. “Compliment his hair!” you rattle off into the mic.

“Compliment his-” Phineas’ voice repeats. “Oh, wait! Uh. Your hair, it’s… it’s hairy?”

When you get your brother alone again, you are going to kill him. Still you can see Isabella’s about to say something again, so you cover your mic with one hand. “Will you shut up! Can’t you see I’m trying to do something very important here?” Isabella’s the one with that whole crush thing, after all – you would think that she, of all people, would realize why this is so important to you. But no, because she’s either deliberately being obtuse or is just blind. (Or potentially it’s the fact that she is still a kid and wouldn’t understand your grown-up problems anyway.)

Jeremy’s voice, laden with his all-too-obvious awkwardness at your brother’s stupidity, is playing in your ears as she answers. “Oh, excuse me! But if you hadn’t noticed, Phineas and I-” she pauses, and looks back at Ferb suspiciously for a moment. “-I think we were having a moment, even despite the fact that he’s… well, he’s you.” She throws her arms in the air, a profoundly disturbed look on her face that you’re not sure is actually an insult or not. “And then you had to ruin that for this – this whole thing that’s so stupid anyway, you do realize that? It’s never going to work, surely you can see that?”

The mini-rant kind of distracted you from hearing what exactly Jeremy said, which is kind of bad in and of itself. He is Jeremy, of course, but you’re just hoping that whatever your brother’s doing down there is having less of a bad effect than there would be from you announcing to your boyfriend that you are also a boy now – at least on the outside – and more so that you’ve suddenly become four years younger than he.

“Smile and nod,” you direct Phineas. “Just say ‘yes’, and agree with everything he says.” It’s what you do when you’re very distracted (usually your brother’s stupid inventions anyway), and it works every time some of the time. From time to time. “And if he asks something that’s not a yes-or-no things, I dunno, just pick something and compliment him on it.” It’s always easy enough to find something to compliment Jeremy on, after all – even your brother should have no problems with it.

“Yes?” your brother’s voice drifted uncertainly through the mic. “I… agree? Uh, your… outfit is… the same one you wear every day? That’s very… dependable of you?”

“Ugh, I have had enough,” Isabella groans. “If you’re really gonna insist on going on with this ridiculous charade – and don’t you dare say I didn’t warn you when it blows up in your face – and there’s not even anything being built? I may as well go home already.”

“Firstly, it is not going to blow up anywhere, because it is going to work perfectly,” you retort. Seriously, what is it with your little brothers’ little friends thinking they suddenly just know so much better than you all of the sudden? And about your relationship with Jeremy, no less. “Secondly, I don’t care if you leave anyway, so just buzz off if you feel like it. I’m not gonna cry over you. Thirdly-” you look at Ferb, scowling. “There is too something going to be built, or my name isn’t Candace Gertrude Flynn-” Just why, exactly, is Ferb not helping you out here? It’s not like he’d even have to say that much, but no, just stands there. It’s the most infuriating thing ever. “-because I have two brothers, and the other one is going to get out there and fix that dumb thing that you tried to switch us with.

Ferb only blinks, but it’s not nearly good enough an explanation as you’re wanting – as you know he knows, and as he surely knows you know he knows, too.

“Yes, only you, of course! What did you expect I was saying, exactly? Don’t play dumb with me, you do know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” You really hope he believes that, because the truth is you probably couldn’t tell if he was lying through his teeth any more than you can tell if Jeremy actually means it when he says he likes you the way you are, or if he’s just saying that to be polite.

(It’s probably the latter, though, right? Probably – honestly, who could like you the way you are anyway.)

“It’s raining,” he says calmly, as if you somehow don’t know that already. “And-”

“So what?” you retort, as Isabella rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Why don’t you lemme know when everything’s back to normal,” she tosses over her shoulder, stalking off. “I don’t come over here to watch you try pull off some stupid date thi-”

“FOR THE LAST TIME, IT ISN’T STUPID!” you shout, clenching your fists and losing all ability to keep your temper under wraps – and why should you, anyway? No one’s even trying to-

“Is everything alright up there?” Jeremy’s voice drifts through the mic, even as Isabella spins back around, her eyes flashing in the dimly-lit hall.

“Don’t you yell at me!” she snaps. “That’s just… ugh! Today was so weird anyway, what with Phineas being you and he can’t be you because I-” she stops abruptly, blushing a little. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving. Ferb, goodbye.”

“Well, leave then,” you retort, and though she walks away instead of responding, you don’t stop because it feel good, darnit, and sometimes you need just need to let all that out. “No one needs you and your stupid hairbow around anyway, isn’t that right, Ferb? You don’t need her – you can fix that machine all on your own, right? Of course you can, you’re Ferb.”

“Wait, where are you going, Isabella?” Phineas’ voice comes through into your ear. “It’s not even snack time yet? I think there’s-”

“It will most certainly take longer without Phineas,” Ferb says. “I-”

You’re not paying him any more attention, though. He can fix it by himself? Good, that’s all you need to know – and you have vastly more important things, namely what Jeremy is saying right now, because you can tell by his voice alone that he’s still not entirely at ease and that really isn’t a good thing. Waving one arm vaguely in your brother’s direction to shut him up, you readjust your headphones over your ears. “What are you waiting for, then? I can’t stay like this forever, you know, and just standing there isn’t helping.”

He stares at you a bit more, but you redouble your efforts to focus on the conversation between Jeremy and your brother downstairs, and he eventually blinks and walks past you, heading downstairs himself.

“Wait, Ferb, now where are you going?” Phineas’ voice says, right on cue. “Outside? Oh, are you gonna work on the-”

“Forget about the machine!” you hiss into the mic. “Jeremy doesn’t wanna hear about that contraption!” What does Jeremy want to talk about, though? You do like to talk to him about your busting efforts (mostly because he’s the only one who’ll actually listen to you – even Stacy’s started giving you ‘the look’ when you try to bring it up to her), but Phineas (obviously) can’t do that. Well, there is one tried-and-true option that you can go for. “Ask him what’s going on with his band.” That always works, and even if the answer is usually just-

“Not much.”

-exactly that, yeah. Oh, well. You couldn’t hear the sliding glass door open or shut through the mic, but it’s been plenty of time for Ferb to have gotten outside by now and the immediate crisis has been averted.

“But I, uh, heard you got in trouble last night,” Jeremy continues awkwardly. “Well, I didn’t hear. I was there. You know, with the ba… well, I guess you were there too, weren’t you?” He laughs for a moment, a brief sort of thing that dies in his throat almost before it can even be called a ‘laugh’.

You walk into your bedroom and haul yourself up onto your bed, exhaling loudly. Finally, all that’s over with (and Isabella’s not around to call your perfectly fine plan ‘stupid’ for absolutely no reason – you’re confident the girl’s still jealous that you got on the cover of that Firefighter Girls magazine ‘cause you earned so many patches in one day.)

(That has to be it, right? Of course – there’s nothing actually wrong with this plan. You know what you’re doing, after all, you are practically an adult by now.)

“Tell him it’s fine,” you say into the mic, taking several more deep breaths and leaning back into your pillows. Pretty much by instinct alone your right hand slides along the bedcovers until you can feel Ducky Momo’s plush fur.

It’s – it’s not immature, it’s, uh, it’s comforting. And not immature – if you were immature, would you seriously be up here trying to coach your brother through this quasi-date with Jeremy right now through a flippin’ headset?

Phineas sounds a little confused, but thankfully still complies. “It’s fine.”

“And also that he shouldn’t worry about it,” you add. And it should be obvious, of course – because Jeremy shouldn’t have to worry about anything, but this is your oblivious little brother and you know he doesn’t understand these things.

“Don’t… worry about it.”

“Honestly, I didn’t realize you weren’t-” Jeremy begins, but your phone – or Phineas’ phone, even – suddenly begins vibrating in your pocket and you lift one half of the headset off an ear as you pull it out. It’s Mom – as it would be, right at the worst time possible. Also, the tiny screen on your brother’s crappy phone seems to say…

Your eyes widen slightly at the four missed calls – all from Mom. This… this wasn’t part of the plan, exactly. Still, she thinks you’re Phineas still – what could go wrong? Phineas always gets his way.

“Hello?” you say, flipping the phone open and putting it to your ear.

“Hello?” your brother repeats.

“Don’t repeat everything I say, Phineas,” you growl into the mic. “I’m on the phone. Just let him talk or something, I don’t know, I gotta take this. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Phineas?” Mom quizzes. “What’s going on? What’s with the phone calls and the telling me I need to come home?” She pauses abruptly and sighs. “Be honest with me, hon. Your sister didn’t put you up to this, did she?”

Technically, you suppose, she did – if only because Mom thinks she’s talking to your brother and… eh, it’s not important. You’re certainly not going to get yourself any deeper in trouble – and though you don’t quite remember if Mom explicitly forbid it (and you don’t think she did, but even so) you’re at least relatively sure she won’t be particularly pleased to see that you – or your body with Phineas in it – is technically on a date of sorts while you’re supposed to be grounded. Which isn’t fair at all, and-

“Phineas, answer me,” Mom directs, and then she sighs again. “Look, Phin, I know you don’t want your sister in any more trouble than she’s already in, but-”

“It wasn’t her,” you interrupt. Through your headphones you can hear Jeremy talking about his band or something, and if you’re being honest, it sounds… rather more dull than Jeremy normally does. Maybe he’s just having an off day.

_Pfft. Join the club, Jeremy._

“It wasn’t,” Mom repeats. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent, I swear.”

“Right.” There’s an awkward pause, and though you can’t see Mom, you’d still bet your week’s allowance that she’s pinching the bridge of her nose right now. “Okay, well, even so, I guess. I’ll see you in a few minutes, Phineas.”

All of the sudden you’re finding it much harder to breathe calmly and though you don’t remember doing it, you’re squeezing Ducky Momo tightly against your chest. “A – a few minutes? Wh – wh – but why?”

“I mean, I’m finished with my errands,” Mom replies, and you can just about hear the shrug in her voice. “Really I just had to cancel a bunch of reservations we made, and return some books I’d rented for the plane ride and… you know, stuff. I’m sure you don’t care that much about it.”

And she’s right, of course – you couldn’t care less about what she was doing. What you do care about is your boyfriend, and you’re having a moment right now.

Well, your brother is… but he’d pretending to be you, so it’s the same thing, right? (It’s not weird at all.) At least, you’re pretty sure it counts as a ‘moment’, anyway. Jeremy and he have started up some conversation about guitar playing – and Jeremy’s all like ‘I didn’t know you played guitar’, which is vaguely concerning, because you don’t, although maybe you could learn if he wanted you to – it can’t be that different from the balalaika, can it? Maybe you ought to start practicing the balalaika more diligently again.

You can’t interrupt them now, at any rate – not only do things seem to be going alright for the time being – and come on, this… this whatever your brother’s talking about might actually help convince Jeremy that you can actually hold a conversation without being distracted by busting your brothers, so that’s a benefit. Mainly, though, you can’t let two dates in two days – if you count last night’s ~~party~~ intimate get-together as a date, which you do because you… well, you and Jeremy were both in the same building, even if he was busy, and didn’t really talk to you or pay attention-

Whatever. It really doesn’t matter, nor is important right now. What is important, though, is saving this date from falling through, and darnit, you’re going to do just that, if it’s the last thing you do. Which means…

“You can’t come home yet!” you exclaim into the phone, pushing the headphones’ mic out of your face a little ways. “Didn’t you forget, uh, the… thing? At the place?”

“Did I?” Mom echoes. “I can… nope, thing, place, all done. Thanks for the reminder, honey, but I’m all set for day. Don’t worry – we’ll just have snacktime a little early, that’s all. It’s not so bad, is it?”

“It is so bad!” Okay, you hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but-

“Excuse me? Phineas, I’m coming home because I’m not going to waste gas puttering around town for nothing. There’s nothing to do, and thus I’m coming home. It’s not that hard.”

“But,” you start, but try as you might, your brain refuses to supply any of the rest of whatever sentence that was presumably going to be. “But – but – but-”

“Okay, now you’re just sounding like your sister,” Mom returns, the good humor in her voice evidently starting to wear a little thin. (It’s a tone you’re very good at recognizing.) “She didn’t put you up to this, did she?”

“Wh – what?” you stammer. “No! I – She – Candace – it’s not like that?” Oh, shoot, this is not good, not at all – and above all you are utterly refusing to acknowledge the irony that is the fact that literally any other day of this summer you’d have about killed to get this reaction from Mom, but now? You can’t have it.

“Well, that’s good to hear, hon,” Mom replies. “But I gotta go now – this rain is getting really bad, and I wanna focus on the road. See you in a bit.”

“No, Mom, you can’t – Mom? Mom? Oh, come on!” The urge to chuck Phineas’ phone across your bedroom, just to watch it hit the wall and break apart into little bitty pieces, is suddenly very strong.

What now? _What now?_


	6. Riding the Spiral

“Okay, okay, Candace, calm down. Calm down. Breathe. You can do this. I can do this, can’t I, Ducky Momo?” You frown, not quite able to tell if the stuffed animal’s eyes are saying yes or no. But that’s not important – what you need right now is a _plan_.

Well, you _could_ technically just sit back and let Mom come home and see Phineas – you – having your date with Jeremy, and hope that she doesn’t decide that violates the terms of your groundedness.

Pfft. Like you’d _ever_ do that. No – you have a better plan already – all you have to do is hurry the date along to the end, and sneak Jeremy out of the house, all before Mom comes home. That way Jeremy doesn’t feel like it’s another date being randomly cut off like you have to do so many times, and you don’t risk Mom not being pleased, and, also a benefit: if you can control the end of the date, you can ensure that it leaves a good impression on Jeremy, even if you have to – ugh – act through your brother to do it.

Count on _him_ to screw everything up for you here.

Sliding off your bed, you return to the hall, and sneak down the stairs, until you can just see Phineas and Jeremy sitting on the couch in the living through the bars of the handrail. Thankfully, Jeremy’s facing the other way and Phineas is far too oblivious to ever notice you.

“Okay, change of plans,” you whisper into your mic, interrupting the conversation between the two of them, which has frankly gone on for far too long anyway. Guitars surely aren’t _that_ interesting, right? Hopefully Jeremy doesn’t decide he likes Phineas-you better than the actual you-you, because that would definitely be something that’d happen to you with your luck right about now. “We’re gonna hurry this thing neatly along and bring it to a nice and neat conclusion and put a little bow on top. You ready?”

He doesn’t answer, at least, so that’s good, though he does abruptly cut himself off mid-sentence and start scratching himself behind his ear again, so furiously it’s almost as if his life depends on it.

“Come _on_ , Phineas,” you urge, growing impatient. “Quit with the scratching, I swear – you’re not Perry, okay? Geez, you’re making me look bad in front of Jeremy!” His hand jerks down, and he whips his head around, clearly looking for you.

“Are you – is everything alright, Candace?” Jeremy asks, looking confused and following Phineas’ eyes around the room. You cringe back into the shadows of the staircase, and it seems to have worked – to have kept him from seeing you.

“Yes, it’s alright,” you hiss into the mic. “Say it, Phineas!”

“Yes, it’s alright,” he repeats, almost mechanically, then stops dead, lapsing into a stare that moves methodically around the room. He’s still looking for you, you can tell, but you’re not gonna give him that chance. First things first, before you go ending _this_ date, you need to make sure that Jeremy still wants to go out with you come Saturday. If he says ‘no’, then you’ll know right away that something went sour on his end, and you’ll have to start looking for ways to make it up to him, whatever it was.

That’s easy enough, though – “So, do you still want to go out on Saturday?” you say into your mic. “Come on, Phineas, get to the point!”

“Do you still want to go out on Saturday?” and though he relates the _words_ well enough, you still can’t help but clench your fists and grit your teeth.

“Will you make some _eye contact_?! This isn’t a piece of wood you’re talking to! It’s _Jeremy_ – have some _decency_ , I swear, you-” you stop abruptly yourself, as he suddenly stares directly into your eyes, the expression on his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

Quickly you gesture across your throat – which probably isn’t nearly as impactful as when you were in your _own_ body, thanks to your… you-ness, really. (That’s all there is to it.) “Quit looking at me! _I’m_ not the one you’re talking to – don’t make me come down there!” You will go down there, too – a hundred percent. This is too important to let him mess up like this.

“Uh, sure?” Jeremy replies hesitantly, now looking over his own shoulder.

Instinctively your stomach clenches up on itself. Is Jeremy _not sure_ about Saturday now? Why? What happened? He sounded much more sure than this back when you talked about it last! What – what did Phineas do, exactly? You’d been trying to pay attention, but between Mom and… oh, crap, Mom’s coming home, too. Crap crap crap crap crap.

“Are you sure?” you say into the mic, maybe a little bit too loudly than you really should. “Start repeating, Phineas – for the love of Jeremy, _please_ , this is not something I want to screw up! Ask him – ask if he’s sure, say ‘Jeremy, are you sure? I mean, it’ll be fun, right? It’s not – there’s nothing – I didn’t _do_ anything, right?”

Your mind is whirling about at what feels like a million miles a minute and it’s becoming hard again – hard to talk. This always happens with Jeremy – you try to say something, you really do, and then, the words, they just don’t come. It’s like you forget how to speak, except you _know_ how to speak and yet it doesn’t come out right. It’s okay, though, it’s okay – just gotta keep trying to get that sentiment out there, the one that’s stuck to your tongue for some reason.

“What do you mean?” Jeremy responds to your brother’s repeating of your speech. Does that – does that mean, well, he said ‘what do you mean’, right? And couldn’t that mean that he thinks you should know, as in, you were so unpleasant somehow that it should be obvious? You didn’t mean to, really you didn’t, whatever it was!

_Phineas_ – it was his fault, wasn’t it? Well, most things are, but – but this has to be _literally_ his fault because he was impersonating you the whole time?

“What did you _do_ ,” you growl darkly into the mic. Maybe if you run down there right and tell Jeremy the truth about – ha, no, actually, better stop right there. That’s a stupid idea, and you don’t even have to finish the thought to know that.

“I didn’t do-” Phineas protests, much to your ever-increasing dismay, before awkwardly hesitating and cutting himself off mid-sentence.

“Wait, is that your brother? Phineas, is that…”

Oh, this is just great. Now _Jeremy’s_ looking at you, too – you’re pretty much busted, and no, there is no irony in that statement. Absolutely none at all.

Jeremy sighs a little, looking over at your brother, who’s now sitting on his hands and generally making a fool of himself. “Candace, if you wanna go bust him that badly, I’m not going to stop you – you know that, right? There’s no need to stay here if you’d rather be off getting your mother.”

"No, no, no, no! This is-"

Wait, now Phineas _and_ Jeremy are staring, and… oh, you just said that out loud, didn’t you? Heat rises to your cheeks as in a sudden spurt of anger and desperation, you decide that you really just don’t _care_. Snatching the headphones off your head and tossing them to the steps beside you, you descend the rest of the way down to the living room, speaking all the while.

If Phineas can’t do it right, then you’re darn well going to do it yourself. (Leave it to Phineas to mess this up anyway. Come on, it’s not _that_ hard – you don’t even think about it anymore, that’s how pat you’ve got it down.)

“No, no, he, I mean, _she_ does _not_ want to do that – does not want anything of the sort,” you exclaim, marching directly up to the living room coffee table. It’s kind of a lie, because you _do_ want exactly that, actually, and you want nothing more. There’s that big switching machine out in the yard that you’d give your right arm (and all the rest of your limbs) to have Mom _see_ , for once in your life. But that will come – and you’re gonna make sure of it – and right now you have to take care of this, get it wrapped up before Mom comes back, and then you’ll be free to bust all you want. “I do believe instead that _she_ has something _she_ wants to ask you, don’t you, _Candace_?”

Also, there’s a part of your brain demanding you climb _onto_ the table to minimize the height difference between and Jeremy and Phineas, because only reaching to your boyfriend’s waist like is… its own special brand of unsettling.

“Uh – uh – uh,” Phineas stammers. “I mean, I thought I did? What with the whole ‘Saturday’ thing that I, I mean, he said-”

Does your brother ever listen to you, you sometimes wonder seriously. And though every now and then you feel like it’s not fair to say this, for the most part? No, no he doesn’t.

“Shush!” you interrupt, brushing him. “I’m talking to Jeremy now.” Honestly, you would think he would know by now that he really shouldn’t try to interrupt you when you’re with your boyfriend. He and Ferb – they always do this, it seems. There was the thing with the funhouse… and yeah, honestly, it’s the worst. Turning back to Jeremy, you almost put your hands on your hips in frustration, but you… well, it’s Jeremy, and you just can’t bring yourself to do it.

What _would_ he think of you, getting frustrated with him? And you’re not even you right now, but somebody else, and still you can’t get _mad_ at him, or at least you can’t show it, because that’s not what good girlfriends do – and it certainly might end up in him throwing up his arms and declaring he’s about enough of you. “Jeremy, _do_ you want to go out with me – her, even, her – on Saturday? I mean, I thought we were gonna – I mean, you and her were gonna go the movie theater, like, I know it’s not your _favorite_ movie-” - and it’s not the new Ducky Momo movie either – _Ducky Momo and the Sea of Razorsharp Rock Spires_ – but you could never let Jeremy know you still ~~love~~ ~~like~~ occasionally watch Ducky Momo. When it happens to be on, of course “-but it’ll still be fun, right? Right? And then we can sit together and hold hands and – and – what?”

He’s just sorta… staring at you, looking thoroughly confused – which he often does, and it’s almost kinda cute on him – but also mildly disturbed as well, and it’s that look that stops you dead in your tracks. Does he _not want_ to go to the movies with you – with your brother, even – oh, what _ever_! You can’t have this – what did Phineas do, and _now_ , of all times, when you have enough to deal with already with the whole ‘body switch’ and the… it’s just too much!

“I mean, I had… planned to go?” Jeremy answers, the hesitance exceedingly obvious to your ears, ripping through your gut like some kind of knife. “With your sister, I mean? I – I suppose you can come if you _want_ , though? It’s… I mean, I don’t about the whole-”

“You _had planned_ to go?” you nearly screech. He _had planned_ to go? What does that mean, exactly? You can… well, you _can_ understand why he wouldn’t want to go out with you, there’s tons of reasons, but you’ve been trying so hard to keep him from figuring out about those, and you’d thought you’d managed? It can’t – can’t be about busting, can it? That’d be stupid, of course, but what if he found someone prettier than you, maybe?

Your breaths are coming short and shallow, your heart racing as you dredge back through your memory as well you’re able, trying to figure out what it could be that would push Jeremy to say something like that. Did you forget a date or something? No, not that you know of – though there have been several times in the past few weeks when you had to cut them short to bust your brothers, but you always do that, right? So it’s fair game? Or at least you’d assumed so? Maybe you ought to try some gesture to prove-

“So, uh, I should probably going now, Candace?” Jeremy cuts into your thoughts, still sounding awkwardly hesitant. Honestly, it only worsens things to hear him like that? But before you can answer, your brother interrupts – for _some_ reason.

“Uh… sure, if you want to? But you should totally at least have some pie, since Isabella left without having any today… say, why did she do that anyway? She looked in a hurry when she came down here.”

You’re just about to yell at your brother to butt out and mind his own business, when his voice suddenly clicks in your brain.

Oh.

_Oh, no_.

“Wait, wait, no, that’s what I meant – I mean, I didn’t mean it to come out like that!” you exclaim. Shoot, shoot, no, what have you done this time? Jeremy’s leaving and he no doubt thinks you – the real you – has suddenly become nerdy while your little brother has turned into some kinda… well, it’s not use thinking about it now? You’ve got to fix this – and fix it now – all before Mom comes home, too.

There’s really only one thing that pops into your mind as a sort of last-ditch effort to get Jeremy to forget everything that’s happened and remind that you do _try_ to be a girlfriend (or at least try to act like one). It’s a bit of a long shot, but darnit, it’s the only one you have.

Climbing up and standing on the coffee table so you can speak directly into your brother’s ear – an action which earns a mild look of surprise from him – you grab his shoulders and whisper hastily into his ear. “Listen here, you can’t let this date end like this. You’ve got to do a romantic gesture thingy so that he’s happy, and so he won’t dump me, you get it? Just go over and grab his hand and kiss him, got it?”

“Wait, what?”

Letting go of Phineas’ shoulders, you turn to Jeremy – finally able to look into his eyes directly (or close enough to it, which is honestly relieving in a weird way all by itself because it’s just so _wrong_ to have to look up to him like that) – and smile as innocently as you know. The coffee table is creaking and kinda shaky under your weight, but you can balance. It’s not like you haven’t done harder things before. “I, uh, before you go, I believe my _sister_ has something to say to you, hmm?” You look expectantly at Phineas.

“What?” Phineas repeats, staring directly at you. “You want me to _what_?”

“Come _on_ , Phineas!” you say, through grit teeth. “Don’t do this to me!” Turning back to Jeremy, you smile as widely and innocently as you can. “She does, I swear, just… just you wait and see, hmm?” The patches under your arms are still abnormally dry – which is probably one of the only side effects of being in your brother’s body you could actually kinda get used to – but there’s definitely beads of sweat forming on your forehead right now at the way Jeremy’s staring at both you and your brother right now,

There’s a nasty, nasty image creeping into your head, and refusing to be driven out no matter how hard you try to ignore it. You can see the look on Jeremy’s face, one covered in confusion and hesitance and some kind of a disturbed aura about it, and though you try your best, it’s all to easy to picture this being the end of line, the final straw, the point where your busting habits and all the other ways you fail so badly at girlfriend-ing sometimes suddenly becomes just too much for even someone as perfect as he to continue dealing with.

You can’t let that happen – just can’t! Without Jeremy you… you don’t know what you’d do, really. Before him you tried dating other people, really you did, but time and again, it always failed. No else can – can be like Jeremy! He’s the only who’s ever stuck around despite the way you bust and the way you are in general, and you can’t lose that, because you really honestly just don’t know what you’d do after that point.

End up as an old cat lady? It really seems like about the only option you’d have left, and that’s definitely not what you want.

But when even your _best friend_ Stacy gets short-tempered with you sometimes and you really don’t see Jenny as much as you did at the beginning of the summer, and that one goth girl – Victoria? – has complained enough about her dad in the short times you’ve talked to her that… well, she still kinda scares you.

Point being, Jeremy is _special_ , special for dealing with you in a way that no one else ever does, even though you _would appreciate_ some more understandingness on the part of your friends sometimes because _come on_ , how can you be expected to not want to bust your brothers when a perfect opportunity presents itself?

He’s perfect, and you can’t lose him, no matter what.

No matter _what_ , and your brother, right now, is that ‘what’ that you’re full determined is not going to matter. (Your mother and her imminent return home is _also_ a ‘what’, but Phineas is a much bigger deal right now.)

You need him to kiss Jeremy – a romantic gesture, something to prove to Jeremy that, yes, you are still trying to be a girlfriend, and to get you off the hook for a little while. When you switch back you’ll think of some big, grand thing you can do to _really_ prove yourself to him. Maybe something with fireworks. Fireworks are romantic, right?

Crossing to the other side of the coffee table, you’ve already determined that you’re going to take matters into your own two hands with this, because if that’s way you have to get things done around here, then _so be it_. You grab ahold of Phineas’ shoulders, who’s still staring at you in a sort of disbelief.

“Wait, Candace, I don’t know if I-”

“Shut up and kiss him!” you growl, trying to pull him towards Jeremy. He’s much heavier than you’re used to, so this really has no effect other than spider-cracking the glass surface of the coffee underneath your feet when you brace your weight on it. “Come on!”

“Uh, Phineas?” Now it’s Jeremy speaking, lifting his palms in the air and taking a step back. “I don’t know… what’s going on here, exactly, but if your sister doesn’t want-”

“It’s not like that!” you burst. There’s a vague sort of rumbling in the background – sort of like thunder, but somehow closer and not as loud at the same time. “He – she – me – I – Phineas!”

“Look, Jeremy, Candace, this is kinda weirding me out right now,” Phineas says. “I’m just gonna come clean, okay? See, what’s going on is-”

“No!” you yelp, even though part of you is kinda wishing you _had_ done that from the start, it’s too late now – you’re in too deep. ‘fessing up now’ll just make him ask why you lied and…. Just no, no, please. “Hush – hush – hush! Just get – over – here!” You grunt as you pull on Phineas’ shoulders, trying to pull him closer to Jeremy. And then he moves forward abruptly – you hadn’t realized that you were hanging onto him quite so much, and your feet fly out from under you. A loud and painful thud vibrates through your body as you land squarely on your tailbone in the middle of the coffee table.

Jeremy takes a step back, mouth opening wide – Phineas gasps. “Candace!” Wood splinters and glass shatters and the table splits right in two from the impact, and you go crashing to the floor beneath, surrounded by rubble and assorted bits and pieces of furniture.

“No, no, no!” you exclaim desperately. “This is – this wasn’t how this was supposed to go!”

Practically simultaneously your brother and boyfriend to move to help you up, but Phineas abruptly dances to the left and staggers backwards, ostensibly trying to avoid gashing his bare feet on the razor-sharp bits and pieces lying around. Stumbling, he topples over backwards into the end table near the couch, in a second ear-splitting crash, his flailing arms catch the lamp by it's cord and yank it clear off onto the floor.

This isn’t happening.

“Don’t move!” Jeremy exclaims, as the bits of broken ceramic join the glass and wood splinters all over the floor. “Hang on – hang on, uh, uh, uh, I’ll, uh-”

“Get the vacuum cleaner!” Phineas chimes in from the floor, his voice laced with pain. “Ow, my tailbone, though - for like the fifth time today, my goodness! Ferb can you- Oh, shoot, Ferb’s not-”

_This isn’t happening_.

“This wasn’t how this was supposed to go!” you wail. “Just, uh, oh, Jeremy will you get over here and get-”

“What is going on in here?!”

Everything and everyone freezes. Time itself grinds to a halt. All that’s left is the chilly mass growing in your gut, growing until everything else is drowned out before it, the growing realization sinking into your brain with the horrible comprehension of that voice.

Might as well go ahead and prepare yourself to add another link in that summer-long chain of disappointment and regret.

Jeremy, of course, is the first one to move again. “Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher!” he exclaims. “There’s, uh, it was an accident?”

“We need the vacuum cleaner, Mom!” Phineas blurts out. “I honestly don’t know what happened, first there was the Switcher in the backyard and then Ferb said the resis-”

Mom is _not_ happy. You can just… tell. “Candace Gertrude Flynn-” you cringe instinctively at your full name, both because _great_ , now Jeremy knows about your awful middle name and also because uh oh Mom's using your full name “-please, oh, _please_ do not tell me that this is what this about. Not again, not today, not after last night.”

“Uh, should I… be going?” Jeremy nervously interjects, though he doesn’t move. “I don’t wanna, like, intrude, but-”

“Wait, no, Mom, you don’t know the whole story!” Phineas says, trying to find somewhere to put his hand down so he can prop himself up without cutting himself on the shards all over the carpet. “It all started when this morning when I woke up and Phineas, well, my bod-”

“Candace, I do _not_ want want to hear about your brothers right now!” Mom cuts him off. “What did we say last night? Please – this is not the time for this.” She’s suddenly looking directly you, her face stern and her eyes hard. For all the times you’ve gotten ‘the look’ and the ‘the talk’ and heard ‘the sigh’ over the course your busting… this is truly on another level. It’s almost frightening, especially because Mom is _literally_ towering over you right now. “Phineas, please, will you tell me _exactly_ what happened here? Clearly something has gone very wrong and I cannot take this after last night. I need the truth, and I need it _now_.”

Out the corner of your eye, you see Jeremy give a tiny wave to Mom, motioning towards the door questioningly. She nods – gesturing for him to go – and just like that, your date is over, and it’s completely ruined. Utterly in shambles.

No no no _no_! Why does this always happen! It’s your brother, it always is, always ruining things for you, always showing you up, always making things so _difficult_! It’s so _unfair_! Why does he always do this to you? Why does this always happen? And now you’re stuck in his _freaking body_ and still this happens and you should’ve expected it honestly but it just makes you so _mad_ and you never have any chance to ever get them the comeuppance… the comeuppance they deserve!

You clench your fists and grit your teeth, the cold in your gut having thawed into scaldingly hot lava. After all, you’re _Phineas_ now. The one you heard your parents extolling this morning at the breakfast table, all while talking of how irresponsible you are. You’re the perfect little baby brother who can do no wrong. They trust you. Mom’ll take your word – she always takes Phineas’ word on _everything_.

You may not ever be able to bust your brothers for their stupid contraptions, but there _is_ one thing you can do. One thing you can do now, because you’re in his body, and he’s in yours. Bust him… for busting.

Suck on _that_ , Mysterious Force.

“She was-” you pause, sucking in a breath, half-expecting some beam of light from the sky to dart in and ruin you in some way before you can finish the sentence. “She was trying to bust me.”

Mom’s face hardens. “Is that true?”

You nod, daring not look behind you at your brother, staring directly into your mother’s eyes. For maybe a moment, though, you hesitate – aren’t you lying? It’s not a question you’re used to facing – you don’t usually get this far. But the sky is clear of beams of light, and the Force is silent of even a whisper. It’s just you, and Phineas, and Mom, a bit like the way you always dreamed it would turn out.

_It isn’t fair._

_But he didn’t even do-_

_He deserves a comeuppance for_ something _._

_But it was you-_

_He ruined your date with Jeremy and you’re in his body and you’re still trying to defend him? When has he_ ever _seen what it’s like to be you – to have, not your body, but your_ life _? And the stupid inventions, hmm? The ones you always fail to bust him for? This is your_ chance _, Candace._

_You screw everything up. Don’t screw this up_.

You screw everything up. But you aren’t gonna screw this up.

The anger rages hotter in mind, a boiling inferno. “Yes.”

The next moments are kind of a blur, even to you. Mom takes a deep breath, trying to probe the truth of your story no farther. (Why should she? You’re _Phineas_ , after all. The apparent epitome of trustworthiness – and certainly so compared to _you_ , at least from Mom’s point of view.) “Candace Flynn, young lady, we had our discussion this morning. I had hoped it would be enough. Apparently it wasn’t. As of this instant, you can consider yourself grounded.”

...and there they are – the words you never thought you’d ever hear directed towards your brothers, towards either of them. Both would be preferable, but one is plenty good enough. You take a deep breath, trying to soak it in like… fresh air. Fresh air that’s… strangely stale. You would’ve thought that maybe it’d be like a great heavy weight being lifted off your shoulders or something.

There’s certainly none of that (it does all sound like some cliché out of a really boring old novel anyway), but you’ve still got some sort of… revenge, right? Or, well, that sounds kinda bad, but it’s _something_ , right? Some comeuppance?

“Wait, no, Mom, you can’t – you don’t know the whole story!” Phineas exclaims. “See, I’m not actually Can-”

“Candace, I heard about enough of these stories,” Mom interrupts. “And I know you just want attention, hon, but this is not the way to do it. And after last night and the party and the direct disobedience, honestly, we’ve got to do something. And we will.” She pauses for a moment. “Are you hurt?”

“I, uh, no?” he stammers. “It’s not – I mean-”

“Good.” Mom nods. “I’ll clean up this mess – your mess. You get up and walk – carefully, mind you – all the way up to that bedroom of yours, and you stay there. You are _grounded_ , you hear me?”

“But-” he tries fruitlessly. “I – Mom – but – but – it’s not, it’s… but…”

Mom merely points to the staircase.

There’s an awkward moment of silence as your brother drags himself up from the floor and carefully picks a path through the broken glass and ceramic scattered across the living room floor. No one says anything – probably for the better. Right before he gets to the stairs, though, he turns and looks – looks directly at you.

Instantly you look away.

You’ve – you’ve gotta stop thinking about this. You’re not – this wasn’t a _bad_ thing, right? It was a… a… you’ve gotta get outta here. You can’t stay in this room any longer, not – not anymore.

Jeremy’s face flickers through your mind again, how nervous and out-of-place he looked as he slipped out into the rain still drizzling down. How utterly _miserably_ your date went, and even though Phineas got in trouble, that’s not going to patch up things between you and Jeremy – if they can be patched up at all, that is.

Now there’s a thought that sends a jolt through your spine, finally shaking you free of the sort of frozen stance you’ve been kinda… stuck in without really thinking about. But you can’t just let it end like that, can you? You’ve got to do something about it – surely there’s still a chance, right? Maybe if you catch up to him and apologize enough, he’ll come back to you – or to Phineas-in-your-body, which is as good as you once you’re switched back.

Speaking of being switched back, you suddenly remember that Ferb was supposed to have been fixing that machine, too, so that you could actually do just that. But you can’t switch back _now_ – not only is your body the one really seriously grounded now (and now it’s probably going to be a _long_ time, too), but your body is also the one who screwed things up so badly with Jeremy in the first place, so much so that even you trying to directly fix things wasn’t enough.

You have to go – you have catch Jeremy before it’s too late. Brushing past Mom, you dart through the house, stopping only just long enough in the mudroom before the front door to pull your shoes on, and then you fling the front door open and sprint out into the rain.

It’s all very wet and muddy, but that’s not enough to really bother you right now. You’ve got too much riding on this now. Hoping that Jeremy took the usual route home – and why wouldn’t he? – you turn right at end the of the driveway and continue the run through the rain.

By the time you can spy him walking ahead of you, you’re thoroughly soaked, your clothes and hair hanging very limply and clinging to your skin. Jeremy, of course, has an umbrella – and umbrella that could just as easily be an umbrella for two, if he would let it.

_Darnit_ , if only this stupid switch hadn’t happened, none of this would’ve happened, either. Just think how romantic today could’ve been? What with the rain and all?

… on second thought, maybe you oughtn’t think about that. It’s only gonna make things worse thinking about what you missed out on.

“Jeremy! Jeremy!” you call out instead. He stops mid-stride, turning around to face you as you finally catch up to him, breathing hard, sides burning like you’re on fire. It wasn’t even _that_ far of a run, goodness – what happened to being able to run across town while carrying Mom in your arms? That was hardly a quarter mile and you’re already entirely pooped. “Wait – wait up!”

“Phineas?” He raises one eyebrow. “What – what’re you doing out here?”

“I’m just – I’m just…” You hold up a finger, panting heavily for a moment or two more. “I just, uh, I saw how you were looking when you left and I didn’t want you to, uh… have a bad time? With me – I mean, Candace?”

He shrugs. “Well, I’ve never quite her heard talk so… in-depth about guitar? I didn’t even know she played, and she apparently built her own guitar from scratch and I had no idea about this until today. So that was pretty cool, I guess.”

You cringe. “Greeeat.”

“It was pretty nice, actually. At least, uh, at… you know, at first?” He hesitates. “So that was… a thing, I guess?”

He doesn’t even have to clarify what he’s talking about, but you already know. So much for your brother’s saying that he’d help you out? Chickening out at the last, most important moment. “I’m sorry about that, uh, Candace, she, uh, had… has this cold sore on her tongue? And I – I guess I didn’t know about that? Until after the fact, or something? So, uh, she’s… she’s sorry?”

His face contorts a little into a vaguely worrying expression. “I mean… Candace, she didn’t really do anything worth apologizing for? There were some… weird awkward moments in there, I guess, but it wasn’t until… well… what were you doing anyway? That was… that was honestly a little strange?”

“What?” What does he mean ‘nothing to apologize for’? That was _Phineas_ down there, not you – he had to have messed _something_ up, you know it. He’s Phineas, after all, and always screws up things that you ask him to do. It’s like an unwritten rule at this point, seriously. And what’s Jeremy accusing _you_ of anyway? All you were trying to do was help, after all. Couldn’t he see that?

Apparently not, as he proceeds to shake his head pensively and resumes walking down the sidewalk. You set off after him, matching pace as best you can with your much, much shorter legs. (This ‘being short’ thing really does cause no end of inconveniences, doesn’t it?)

“I mean, honestly, Phineas, I don’t know what you were trying to do, but it was… it made me uncomfortable, you know?”

You frown, not sure what he’s driving at, exactly. You were _obviously_ just trying to help… and if only Phineas had actually cooperated, instead of just standing there like a dolt, everything would’ve worked out just fine, you know it! It’s – it should be obvious, right?

“I… yeah, sure?” you say lamely, not sure what else you _can_ say, anyway. Well, maybe you shouldn’t be focusing on any of that anyway – what’s important is that he had a good time with Candace – with you – because that’s going to be you again, and that’s what’ll matter. “But you did like the date? The part with Candace, I mean? It was good?”

Jeremy gives you another strange look, and you cringe.

“Sorry!” The apology comes without even a thought on your part. “I didn’t mean it like that, I – I – you’re right! You’re right.”

“Phineas…” he says slowly. “You’re not… I mean, you do know that I’m trying to take your sister away from you, or anything like that, right?”

Now _this_ is not an angle you’d expected this conversation to take. “What?” Heck, for a moment there it’s not even your act, pretending to be Phineas – you’re genuinely baffled by the question. Trying to take… why would Phineas ever think that? Why would he care? If he’s anything like basically everyone else you interact with on a regular basis – except Jeremy – then he probably prefers it when you’re not driving him up the wall anyway. Even _Stacy_ has all but said so from time to time, and she does that stupid thing with her phone and putting it next to a recording of herself when you’re trying to talk sometimes, and it’s… well, so you’re… people don’t like… it’s not your _fault_ , at any rate, is it?

Is it?

Swallowing the lump that is suddenly in your throat, you decide that you don’t want to think about that anymore. Jeremy, at least – Jeremy doesn’t seem to mind _you_ the way everyone else does. He’s the only one, though – and why should you expect Phineas to be any different? And especially when you _do_ spend so much trying to bust him, which… has to factor in there somewhere, right?

For a moment the conversation you had earlier with Phineas flickers back through your head – how he almost seemed like he didn’t notice at all what you were planning to do, even though you pretty much directly said it to his face. And he _did_ try to get you ungrounded earlier, apparently, which… is still something you aren’t confident of the reason why, not when they seem content to see you made miserable in so many other ways.

(Like this one, for instance.)

Honestly, the only way you really understand it is that they… they don’t want you miserable when they aren’t _causing_ it, but that’s… you can’t quite bring yourself to wholeheartedly accept that explanation either. You just try and bust them, and they – honestly, they don’t seem to care at all. Which typically doesn’t bother you either, considering it’s not like you have a choice in the matter – what, and _not_ bust? Which is tantamount to admitting to your parents that you’re an insane habitual liar and asking that they never trust you again for the rest of your life? Yeah, not hardly.

“What – what gave you that idea?” you manage. “I’m _Phineas_ -” of course you didn’t have to say that, but stressing it as much a reminder to yourself to try and stay in character as much anything else “-I don’t care what happens to my sister. Take her, whatever, you can have her. It’s no concern of _mine_.”

“Right,” he replies, and you get the distinct feeling that he doesn’t believe you – and you, of all people, would recognize that tone when you hear it. “Well, I just… figured I’d cover all the bases, you know? I mean, I know Candace usually… well, today I kinda got worried a bit because she kinda seemed like she completely forgot all about you to talk, which… just doesn’t happen, you know? And then you came down and got… I mean, I guess it was our business? It really was.”

If only he _knew_ how much of your business it actually was, though. Part of you even wants to tell him – just so he’ll start treating like his _girlfriend_ again, because you’re kind of dying inside for him to do that… but you can’t _now_ , or he’ll probably just get upset that you didn’t tell him before, and what excuse do you have to explain that, anyway? Not a good enough one, probably. That you were afraid he’d get weirded out and not want to date you anymore? Oh, yeah, like you could admit that to his _face_ like that. Sure.

Still, though, he hasn’t really specifically said whether or not he enjoyed the date – other than guessing at it, which is, frankly, not good enough for you. If that’s the only kind of reaction you can provoke, he’s surely gonna leave you for someone more exciting… you really have to make some kind of grand gesture as soon as possible when you’re switched back to prove to him that you are actually at least somewhat competent.

While you _aren’t_ switched back, though…

“You do enjoy dating me – I mean, Candace – right? Like… there’s nothing _wrong_ with her, is there? That – that you’ve noticed?” How well have you been doing at keeping him from noticing your flaws? It looks like you’re about to find out, and it’s honestly freaking you out a little bit. Your heart is thumping far too rapidly in your chest.

“I mean, yeah,” he replies, not even pausing to break stride and look at you, which is… probably not the best of signs, is it? “There’s nothing _wrong_ with her-” Phew. You’ve never been so relieved in your life to hear those words “-but-”

_Oh no_.

But? What _but_? What is he about to say – about to say about you, not knowing that he’s talking directly to you? How much has he seen? What does he know? Did he see the acne medication in the bathroom medicine cabinet or the fungus cream in your vanity and guess that it was yours? Has he figured out that it’s actually you in brother’s body? Has he finally gotten too aggravated with your busting despite your efforts to keep him placated? You’d thought that letting him come over last night would be enough to get off the hook for at least a little while? You’d been kinda counting on that, actually, especially to help you slide through today… it usually works like that, at least?

“-well, sometimes I do feel a bit like I’m playing second fiddle to you guys – I mean, I guess I shouldn’t feel like that, because you guys _are_ family, after all. I just-” he shrugs “-she does run off to spend time with busting you guys and sometimes I wish that she wouldn’t? But I don’t suppose she’s going to stop, either.” He looks down and smiles faintly at you, though it doesn’t help very much the cold feeling swelling back up inside you. “I don’t suppose that’s your fault though – and don’t tell your sister I said it, of course, it’s no big deal, but you did ask, so I figured I’d answer, you know?”

“I – I – yeah, sure,” you stammer. “Wait, so you – you don’t like – you wish I would – she would – you think she should stop – you don’t like it when-” You can’t take this – you can’t be forced to _choose_ between Jeremy and busting – he wouldn’t do that to you, would he? You couldn’t take it – having to choose busting over him like that, it would… it would basically condemn to live out the rest of your life all alone, because you know from experience that there’s no one else, and you can’t take that! And if he puts you in a situation where you have no choice…

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asks, looking a little bit concerned. “You _have_ been acting awfully strange today, now that I think about it.”

“I’m fine,” you spit through grit teeth. “Totally fine, of course. I have no idea _what_ you’re talking about.”

“Alright?” He suddenly stops dead, so much so that you keep walking, out from under the umbrella and back into the rain. You’re already drenched anyway, so it really doesn’t matter that much – and looking up, you realize that you’re standing in front of Jeremy’s house anyway. “Well, thanks for… walking home with me?” he says. “If your sister’s actually worried about how… well, I don’t know if you could really call one conversation a ‘date’-” Wait, _what_?! “-but even so, I did have a good time with her. I mean, it was awkward at first, but then it was all good. Until-” and he stops briefly to make a face, though you’re still struggling to grasp the idea that he doesn’t even think it counted as a date at all “-I don’t mean to be rude, of course, but if you wanna talk to me, you can just… talk to me, you know? Trying to insist that your sister kiss me just… honestly it made me feel very weird. I hope you understand.”

_But that wasn’t even_ me except _at the beginning and the end_! You feel like screaming. You don’t – you can’t. He didn’t even consider it a _date_ , and more so, the only parts he actually enjoyed he wasn’t even talking to _you_ at all! What is that supposed to mean? That your brother is a better you than you are? What are you supposed to do with this information, exactly?

And there’s part of you that’s not even surprised, frankly – your brothers have always been better than you at literally everything, so why _wouldn’t_ your brother also be better at being you than you? What’s Jeremy gonna do now, run off and leave you to date Phineas because you’re not as good a girlfriend as your _twelve-year-old brother_?!

“I – ya – ha – heh.” Those weren’t words at all, were they? But they were all you could manage to force your mouth into creating. This wasn’t supposed to have gone like this – not at all. But now Jeremy’s saying that your brother was a good date partner and you were the one who ruined things, which obviously isn’t true, but if he sees it like that, you can’t really do anything about it, and – and – what now? Is he going to just get disillusioned with you when you do get switched back because you’re not as _amazing_ as your brother at even freaking _being yourself – being Candace Flynn_?!

What are you supposed to do about this? There’s nothing you _can_ do about it, really, is there? You can’t _argue_ with him – that’s certainly not going to convince him that you’re actually worthy of being his girlfriend, and trying to make your brother look bad is pointless because you’re not going to be your brother forever, and trying to make yourself look bad is just going to dig you even deeper into the hole you’re already in.

There’s no way out – and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re stuck, trapped between a rock and hard place, all because of this stupid switch, and you’ve been around the block with past boyfriends enough times to know exactly how this going to end. With you, heart broken, all alone. Except Jeremy Johnson is – and always has been – your last resort. There is no one else out there – no one who’ll be able to tolerate you, be able to stand all the things that you are.

No one at all.

You sort of… half wave at Jeremy as he says something else before walking away – off into his house. His words, though, fall on deaf ears as you stand there in the rain, staring after him disconsolately. His horrid little sister greets him at the door, but though she stares at you suspiciously and looks up and down the street, you don’t move. Eventually the front door shuts, and you’re all by yourself again, in the rain, soaking wet, and you honestly don’t care.

Nothing _really_ matters anymore, does it?

You ruined everything.

_You ruined everything_.


	7. Elementary

For the longest time, you’re not even sure of where you’re walking. The rain pelts down on you, tickling the end your abnormally triangular nose, and you just… walk. This is, apparently, your life now – a life in which you can’t even be yourself as good as your brother can be you.

You just can’t do anything right, can you?

Though you’re hardly paying attention to where your steps are steering you, they do take you somewhere specific indeed – driven by force of long habit – and eventually you look up and find yourself standing in front of the porch of Stacy’s house.

Not sure of how long you’ve been standing there, exactly – all that you know is that the rain seems to have slacked off at least a little bit – you give in and cross onto the porch, dejectedly ringing the doorbell.

You wait for a few minutes, and right about when you’re about to ring the doorbell again, then door opens. It’s Ginger.

“Hello – Phineas?” she asks, clearly surprised to see you at all, which is no doubt not helped by your current rain-bedraggled state. “Hi? What’s going on?”

“Hi,” you reply dully. “It’s me. Can I come in? I – I wanna talk to Stacy.” You don’t, not really – you don’t know what you’ll even say, in any case – but you don’t really have anywhere else to go, either. Except back home – back home to face the brother that’s a better older sister than his _actual_ older sister, apparently – and you really don’t wanna do that either. If Phineas is so good at being you, then screw it, maybe he can just stay you forever. Is that what the Mysterious Force or whatever it was that made you switch in the first place wants? Really?

Ginger blinks. “Stacy? O – okay, I guess? She’s upstairs in her bedroom right now. You want me to let her know you’re here?”

“It’s fine.” You wave her off, walking into the house past her. For a moment she stares after you, too, but at least she doesn’t follow as you round the corner into the living room and trudge up the stairs. (You didn’t even know people really _trudged_ , but look at you now – you’re _trudging_.) Halfway through the hall to Stacy’s room, you pause for long enough to use the Hirano’s bathroom and finally relieve yourself after holding it in all afternoon.

Honestly, you’d been a little afraid to do it, considering that it is your _little brother’s_ body, after all, but… eh. It’s certainly an image that burns itself into your brain with a voracity that you’re never going to be able to ever get out, but by this point you can’t really bring yourself to expend energy on being freaked out over it, either.

Toilet, flush, pull up the underwear and shorts, wash your hands, and you’re done. This is your life now.

The next minute sees you walking directly into Stacy’s room, and, not tall enough to just throw yourself over her bed like you normally do, you grab ahold of it and pull yourself up and over the edge anyway.

Stacy’s sitting at her desk, doing something on her laptop – and she half-turns around in her chair, a distinctly surprised and confused expression on her face. “Phineas?” There’s a pause. “You’re all wet! And… Phineas?”

“No,” you say, collapsing back onto your back and staring up at the roof. “It’s me – Candace, I mean.”

Another pause, and though you can’t see Stacy’s face anymore, you can still picture her eyebrows doing that… that thing. “What?”

You sigh. “Something happened. Don’t ask me what it was – no one seems to be able to figure it out-” which is something _else_ you should probably be stressing over, honestly “-and Phineas and I somehow switched bodies with each other in the middle of the night last night. So, yeah, I’m well aware of how I look and sound and… am. Trust me. I am _well_ aware.” You only stop just short of adding on that it’s caused you nothing but trouble, too – but honestly, that should be a given anyway.

“Really?” The disbelief in her voice is still pretty evident. “I mean… if you say so, I guess (and I guess I’ve seen weirder things happen) but… huh. And you say your brothers _didn’t_ do it this time?”

“Really.” You frown up at the roof. “I mean, do I _really_ sound like Phineas to you anyway?”

“Okay, I guess you got me there.” She laughs. “Still, it’s… a little weird. To look at you, I mean.”

“Well, don’t look at me, then!” you snap, unable to help yourself. As soon the words leave your mouth, you regret them, but it’s too late to stop them now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just – I’ve had a horrible day.” You roll over, looking directly into Stacy’s eyes. “I – I don’t think Jeremy… I mean, Stacy, he said he was enjoying his date with me except until, you know, _I_ actually got involved – before it was just freakin’ _Phineas_! And then, to top it all off, he didn’t even think it was a date at all and I – I just don’t know what to do anymore!”

“Is that true?” she replies cautiously, to which you can only nod, really. Is there anything else to say at this point? Not really. “He said he preferred to spend time with your brother over you? He _told_ you this?”

“Pretty much.” You shrug. “Of course, he thought Phineas was me – and that I was Phineas – but I couldn’t tell him _otherwise_ , I mean, can you imagine?”

“You didn’t?”

“Of course not! Tell him what, that I’m _suddenly_ a twelve-year-old boy – and my brother, no less – and expect him to _not_ get weirded out by that?” You can see that Stacy’s about to say something, and somehow you doubt it’s going to be very helpful, so you hasten to explain farther. “I mean, seriously, Stace, you’re just not around him enough – you don’t see what he sees! This would just be a step too far – especially for him, I mean, you _know_ how normal he is and I can’t _do_ this and expect him to – to be able to stand it, can I?”

She frowns at you. “I don’t know, Candace, but I would say that you’d be able to do just that, actually. I mean, seriously, he knows your brothers. It’s not the weirdest thing to have happened to you – didn’t you already get your mind switched with Perry before now anyway? And you said he was over at your house then, too, and he didn’t seem to have an issue with it.”

“Yes,” you reply. “But nobody told _then_ , either, and it worked out just fine. The only reason it’s not working fine now is that _Phineas_ is ruining everything for me. He’s – he’s apparently being a better _me_ than I can be, and when we get switched back Jeremy’s gonna think I’m suddenly lame and then he’s gonna leave me because I can’t be myself as good as my _brother_ can, apparently.”

“Mmm hmm.” Somehow you get the feeling that she doesn’t entirely believe you, but she doesn’t say anything else about it even if so. “Well, I’m sure he’d understand, if you ask me. After all-”

“I’m not _asking_ you anything, though!” you insist. “It’s just Phineas screwing everything up for me again because he just _has_ to show me up for everything, no matter what, and it’s ruining everything! I had everything worked out – this amazing plan, and it was gonna work out perfectly. Jeremy would be happy, and then him and me would switch back, and then Mom would come home and him and Ferb would be-”

“-so busted.” She sighs. “Yes, I know. Honestly, Candace, I don’t think Jeremy’d really care all that much in the first place. I mean, look at me. I’m not having any trouble swallowing it, you know? And it’s… I’m not gonna deny it’s really weird? To look at you like this, and hear you, and be having this conversation? But-”

“-and that’s exactly what I can’t have _him_ feeling like,” you interrupt her again. “I mean, why do you think I didn’t want him to see me when I was in Perry’s body? Because it – it _changes how you view someone_ , and now I’m Phineas, and I’ve seen things that-” pausing briefly, you think of using the bathroom earlier and shudder “-that I’m never going to be able to _un_ see, and he can’t know that – he’d never look at me the same way again.”

“Maybe it’d be a good thing, perhaps?” she offers, and you just roll your eyes. “Like, ‘never view you the same’, as in you’d get closer or something?”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She frowns again, and opens her mouth, but seems to reconsider it at the last moment. “Fine.” Another shrug, and she leans farther back into her chair. “Well, then, how much longer to do you think you’ll be in your brother’s body anyway?”

You… hadn’t really considered that yet, if you’re being honest. The original plan had been to run straight out to the backyard after Jeremy’d left, and get fixed right then and there, but then… that had not happened, and now Mom’s at home and – and that probably means that giant, hulking machine in the backyard is gone now, doesn’t it?

That _would_ happen to you, though. It would.

And if Phineas is so good at being you anyway, maybe he can just keep being you for all you care. Keep being you and then _he’ll_ be the one to grow up and date Jeremy through college have Amanda and Xavier and settle down for the rest of the amazing life you had all planned out for yourself. Because that would just be fair, wouldn’t it?

“I don’t know anymore at this point,” you finally admit, throwing your arms into the air. “There was this machine that was supposed to fix us, but it didn’t, and now the Force’s probably gotten rid of it ‘cause Mom’s at home, and that’s what _always_ happens, and _that_ means that it’s gonna be at least tomorrow, and probably never, because that would be just my luck, wouldn’t it?”

You do have that up-and-coming date on Saturday, too, only… well, you’re not even sure if Jeremy is gonna _want_ to date you anymore – either you’re gonna be yourself again by then, and be unable to measure up to Phineas, or you’re not, and he’s gonna end up dating your brother yet _again_ , farther digging you into this bottomless pit.

“I… guess?” Stacy hesitates. “I mean, usually it’s your brothers who _do_ it in the first place? But you said it wasn’t this time?” You shake your head. “Oh. Well, that’s – is that a good thing? I don’t even know at this point, really.”

“No, no it’s not a _good_ thing,” you retort. “If it had been them, I’d have busted them – they’d have been so busted, have gone down, _down_ , _do_ -”

“Yes, I get the point, Candace.”

“- _wn_. Well.” You cross your arms. “Fine then. But it’s not them, and they don’t even know why or how it happened, and so I’m just stuck like _this_ until they fix it, and it’s just the _most_ fun thing I’ve ever done. I mean, look it! My head. Is a _triangle_. My nose is… I don’t even know how to describe it!”

“Acute?”

You glare. “That’s not funny.”

“Sorry.” She holds up her hands. “I’m sure you got all that – and more – from Isabella flirting with you anyway.”

“No, I put a stop to _that_ ,” you grumble. “I don’t know how he stands it, honestly. I thought she was gonna start strangling me at any second. And then later I almost strangled _her_ because, darnit, no little girl knows better than _I_ do how to handle things with _my_ boyfriend – and when she can’t even get Phineas to notice her? Who does she think she is, exactly? That’s what _I_ wanna know.” You still can’t believe that, honestly. And no matter how sour things are going right now, one thing you still know for a fact is that her stupid ideas certainly wouldn’t have been any help either.

“Wait, you told her?” Stacy asks. “But I thought – I mean, what about the whole thing with… whatever reason you had for not telling Jeremy?”

“What, like I’m supposed to care what my brothers’ dorky little friends think about me? I have _more_ than enough on my plate as it is – I can’t worry about all _that_ crap. If you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to salvage my relationship with my _boyfriend_ here – you know, because I’m literally stuck _inside_ my _little brother’s_ body! In case that wasn’t, I don’t know, clear enough?”

For a second everything’s quiet, and Stacy’s just staring at you. And then she shrugs. “Right. Well, in that case, have you tried figuring out how this actually happened? I mean, if it wasn’t your brothers…”

“And how am I supposed to do _that_ , exactly?” you echo. “I mean, come on. This is _me_ we’re talking about. What do I know about – about switching bodies mysteriously in the middle of the night? It’s not even… it’s not even supposed to be _possible_ and if my _brothers_ can’t figure it out right on their first try, what makes you think _I_ can, either?”

“I don’t know?” She shrugs, turning back around in her chair, and leaning over her desk again. “But maybe it’ll… I don’t know, distract you a little? And it’s not these things don’t happen without a _reason_ , is it?” She pats her chest proudly. “I am a woman of _science_ , remember, and that means everything has to have some reason for happening the way it does.”

“-even switching bodies with your brother overnight for no apparent reason?”

“Even switching bodies with your brother overnight for no apparent reason. Now come on – when we went to London that time to visit your grandparents, we did that whole ‘detective’ routine, and it seemed to work pretty well then, didn’t it? So… what happened, exactly?”

“I wouldn’t know,” you reply dryly. “As you might recall, it was in the middle of the night. I was asleep.” You frown, a thought suddenly occurring to you. “I was _also_ grounded because Mom and Dad thought my intimate get-together was a _party…_ and you were there, too, weren’t you? What happened to you?” Why didn’t _Stacy_ , at least, defend you a little bit? Jeremy you can understand, because he’s… well, Jeremy. But Stacy was also there last night, and Jenny too… neither of them seemed to have tried to explain anything either.

But your brothers, apparently, did.

Stacy turns faintly red for a second. “Oh, yeah… sorry about that. I… mean, your parents seemed so… kinda upset? I didn’t really wanna – wanna get in the middle of anything, you know? Maybe I should have, though. I don’t think I really thought about it at the time. My – that’s my bad.”

“Yeah, I would’ve _appreciated_ a little help,” you snort. “But whatever.” You don’t really have the energy left to argue with Stacy right now, nor do you really _want_ to argue with her, either, despite the fact that she did kinda just hang you out to dry last night. “And no, before you ask, nothing else happened, either. I got grounded – no thanks to you – and spent the rest of the evening in bed. And then I went to sleep, and when I woke up, I was… like this.”

“How strange,” she muses. “Usually when things like this happen in movies and stuff, it’s like… well, you always see it happening after the characters are all like ‘your life is so much better than mine!’ ‘you really think so?’ and they get all mad, and then they get to find out the truth about what they thought.”

“Right, that’s real helpful,” you say, not bothering to disguise the sarcasm dripping from your tone. “If only this was a movie of some kind, then I’m sure you’d be all set to…”

Wait just a second, actually.

You hadn’t connected the dots immediately, but you _had_ kinda – well, perhaps not strictly _said_ anything aloud, nor said it to your brother, but you were pretty mad last night, and you had been wishing that you could have your brother’s luck, for once.

“What? What is it?” Stacy asks. “Is something the matter?”

“Hush!” Of course, that doesn’t necessarily _mean_ anything, does it? After all, wishing for something and actually _getting_ it are two very, _very_ different things (and that’s something else you know from long experience). And you’d wished for your brother’s _luck_ anyway, not his entire freakin’ _body_. And that still doesn’t really explain _how_ anyway, unless it was just like…

… the Mysterious Force?

Is that even _possible_?

Can the Force even do that? Of course, it probably can – you haven’t seen anything really be ‘too much’ for the Force, not ever, and as determined as you are to someday find (or even better, _be_ ) that which finally defeats the stupid Force, you do have to admit that it’s probably not out of the Force’s ability, either.

If it can rewind time and turn a live T-Rex into a statue, then anything’s probably just about fair game.

“Wait, am I _right_?” Stacy’s asking again. “You and Phineas really got into a fight and wished for each other’s lives last night?”

“No, no, no,” you shake your head. “It was – it was just me. And I didn’t want his _life_ – ew! – but I… I was thinking how unfair it is, you know? He and Ferb, they… they have all the luck, and just get to do whatever they want, and no matter how hard I try, I just _can’t_ seem to bust them, and it’s – it’s just not fair!” You hesitate, and stare at Stacy for a second. “So… maybe? If that counts, I guess?”

She just shrugs again. “I don’t know. Maybe? It sounds like it could count to me, at least.”

You toss your arms up into the air. “Sure then, I guess. This was my fault too, because why not? It’s still not gonna help me figure out how to switch _back_ , is it? Because, trust me, if I could make the Force switch us back by wishing for it, then we’d have been back a long time ago. A _long_ time ago.”

“Probably not, no,” she replies. “I, well, if I’m being honest with you, I haven’t watched any movies like this in a long time, but isn’t it usually like a… you know, a sort of appreciation thing? Where you guys gotta make each other’s lives better somehow? That seems like it, at least.” There’s a brief pause. “I mean, I did see at least one like this that was about bringing two people farther into love with each other, but-”

“-yeah, well, I don’t think that one’s applicable, thank you very much,” you interrupt. Which it (very) obviously isn’t, but those other ones… maybe? Not that they actually help any, either: how in the literal _world_ are you supposed to make your brother’s life _better_? You’re just trying to be realistic about things, but that is… that’s gotta be straight-up impossible. He already can do basically everything under the sun, even be you, better than you can, the universe itself moves to protect him from getting in trouble despite your best efforts to the contrary, he’s got a free girlfriend in Isabella pretty much whenever he wants with absolutely no work at all involved (by this point you’re confident he could sneeze on the girl and she’d swoon), and that’s really only scratching the surface.

Mom and Dad trust him. He’s never in trouble. He’s got more talents and can do more things practically in his sleep than you can shake a stick at. Everybody likes him and Ferb, all the things they build, no matter how obnoxious and annoying it is, and everybody, oh, _everybody_ wants to be friends.

For lack of a better way to put it, your brothers’ lives are perfect. And at this point you don’t really even need a better way to put it, because that’s about as accurate a description as you’re gonna get anyway.

You would, quite frankly, kill for a life as perfect as theirs – and the amount of hyperbole in that statement is about as close to nothing as it can possibly get.

“Okay,” you say tentatively. “If this is actually true – and that’s still very big _if_ , mind you – but if it is, then _what_ , exactly, am _I_ supposed to be able to do to actually make my brother’s life _better_ , anyway? If you haven’t noticed, _he’s_ not the one with a driving passion that’s gone forever unfulfilled despite endless efforts and energy spent to the contrary.”

“Oh, yeah, you won’t let me forget it, either.” She shrugs. “But I’m not the expert on this, you know. For that, you’d probably be best to go and ask, you know, _Phineas_. He would know best, after all.”

Something inside you recoils a little at the idea. “Go to _Phineas_?” Part of the reason you were even humoring Stacy thus far was that it… well, it sorta promised a way you could solve this mess on your _own_ , for once, with _out_ having to run to your little brothers. (Which you’ve already done anyway, so that’s kinda out the window anyway, but it’s honestly more about the principle of the thing at this point.)

“It’s just an idea, you know. You don’t have to act like it’s gonna kill you.” Stacy leans back in her chair and props her feet up on the desk. “I mean, is he interested Isabella at all? Maybe you could try matchmaking or something?”

“Right.” Does Stacy not even know your brothers? Some things should just be obvious – or you’d think they would be, at least.

“Well, geez, I’m just trying to help here. Uh… umm… nah, I’m out.”

“Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

“Hey, you’re the one who said that you didn’t have any ideas either! So it’s not it’s just me or anything.”

For a moment you stare, and then sigh heavily. “Yeah, I guess so.” Stacy’s phone vibrates on her desk and she glances over at it, then picks it up and fiddles with it for a second. You can’t see what she’s doing with it from where you are on the bed, but you don’t really care, either – whatever it is, it’s just not important right now. What actually _is_ important is getting switched back… well, primarily you’d like to fix things between you and Jeremy after your brother got ahold of them, but you’re never gonna be able to do that while in your brother’s body anyway.

And the only options you really have at all for that are trying to wait for your brothers, or trying Stacy’s idea, which… is honestly a better idea than any you’ve had, and by this point you _are_ pretty desperate. Plus it’s not like it could really _hurt_ , right? If you can find a way – _some_ way – to make his life better, then sure, why not. It’s not like his life isn’t perfect enough already, after all, and if there’s an off chance that it’ll satisfy the Mysterious Force and let you back into your own body… then sure. Whatever.

The issue, of course, being that you _are_ going to have to go to him and ask him about it, because you honestly can’t think of anything at all. You don’t even know what you’re going to get him for his birthday next week – last Christmas he seemed happy enough with the new toolbox, at least, but you’re not gonna lie to yourself either: if he’d really wanted it, then it’s not like he couldn’t have just gotten it for himself.

It’s like all those Christmastime advertisements about getting gifts for the person who has everything again, except Phineas pretty much _does_ have everything, and also getting back into your own body might be riding on this, too, just as added… stress. Because you don’t get enough of that.

“Curse you, Mysterious Force,” you say wearily. “Just… curse you.”

Stacy gives you a look that is… mostly unreadable. “Well, do you wanna do something? I mean, it’s raining now, so I don’t really wanna walk to the mall-” she pauses to eye up and down your clothes, which have dried a little by now, but are still very damp even so “-but there’s plenty of other stuff to do, too.”

“Like what?” you reply. You’re not really in the _mood_ for fun, really. You’ve failed to bust your brothers today (again), your relationship with Jeremy is seriously on the rocks, and you’re in your brother’s body. It’s not really adding up to putting you in a jovial sort of mood.

“I dunno. Listen to music? Watch a movie? I got some new movies we can try if you want?”

“Mmm. What sort of movies?” You lean forwards slightly.

“Mostly horror movies – you know the new _Grievance_ one is coming out later this summer and I wanted to get back into the mindset for it? So I rented the first parts of the trilogy. One day I’m gonna watch ‘em both back to back. We can do it now, if you want?”

You hesitate: horror movies generally aren’t your thing. They’ve not ever been your thing, really – you just don’t see the appeal in sitting down specifically to watch something that’s going to frighten you? And especially not at night, when it’s dark, and becomes all too easy to see shapes and forms lurking in the dark. But Stacy is looking at you expectantly, and you really _don’t_ want to leave right now, and you probably ought to do something for Stacy to make up for being so rude to her by accident earlier. So you shrug. “Alright.”

“Awesome!” she practically squeals, jumping from her chair and running over to her bookshelf. Plucking out two CD sleeves, she stops and glances back at you. “This is gonna be amazing.”

You smile faintly, hoping that it actually is, and that the movies aren’t _too_ scary.

Which, as it quickly turns out, is a hope you should never have had in the first place. The whole reason the _Grievance_ movies became a duology in the first place – why they’re gonna become a trilogy later this year – certainly wasn’t because they were only mildly scary.

You really did try not to scream, especially not with Stacy right next to you, but you couldn’t help it, not really. The whole ‘practically-jumping-into-her-lap’ thing, though, you could’ve helped, had you stopped and paid a little more attention to what you were doing.

But, for all their frighteningness, they are an effective distraction, and when the credits are finally rolling on the latter of the two, you can’t deny that you do feel a little better about everything (if only because you haven’t really been thinking about it for the last three-and-a-half hours.) The only you have to do now is wait and see if this slightly more upbeat mood lasts when darkness falls tonight.

Not that that’ll take long either, given the time. The rain, at least, has stopped, and you bid Stacy and Ginger goodbye and set out for home. Everything is soaking wet and muddy, but the sky is actually clear for the first time all day, and the sunset is nice and warm and only a little bit humid.

And though this is hardly a good situation, and the threat of Jeremy breaking up with you is looming larger than it normally does over your head… well, at least you have a _plan_ now. One that probably won’t work, but that you’re going to try anyway because _would_ be just like the stupid Force to make you make your brother’s already great life better if you want to have your distinctly sub-par life back.

Of course, the fact that your brother is capable of effortlessly sliding into _your_ life and being you – better than you can, even – while you’re pretty much completely unable to do the same is… it’s something you wish didn’t bother you as much as it does.

But you’ve always known that they – both of them – are better than you are in basically every respect anyway, so it’s no surprise to see it confirmed here, either.

Mom greets you as you walk inside, and you wave back, telling her that you were over at Stacy’s, and no, you didn’t spoil your appetite. And yes, you were at _Stacy’s_ – Candace’s friend Stacy’s – just watching some movies, nothing else, really.

Which is all true, of course.

Phineas isn’t downstairs when you get into the living room, which is mildly unusual, but no big deal. The backyard is, of course, utterly empty of anything even remotely resembling the gargantuan machine that was there this morning, which you’d only expected anyway. The yard is also empty of your brothers, which is also unusual – but given the time of day, not terribly so.

You climb the stairs, sure of finding him up there, and run squarely into Ferb at their summit.

“Oh, hey,” you say. “Where’s Phineas at, anyway? I looked downstairs and he’s not in the den and I-” you stop short, because although reading your brother’s expressions has never been your… forte, exactly, there’s still something in his eyes that stops you this time. He’s staring, like he always does, but… it’s a strange feeling. “What?” you ask instead, starting to get a little uncomfortable.

He doesn’t answer, but keeps staring instead, and though you’ve only been home for like ten minutes, you can feel yourself starting to get a frustrated again.

“Ferb, please, you _know_ I can’t understand you when you do that, right? I know you. Just answer the question, will you? With _words_?” Honestly, though. Can he just not? He’s not even usually _this_ stubborn about it, and you just don’t get why-

He points at your closed bedroom door just feet away, and all the sudden it dawns on you like a… like someone’s just thrown a brick – or a ton of them – through your skull.

“Oh, no,” you breathe. “I – I forgot about that.” How could you have forgotten, exactly? You don’t have a good _reason_ , you just… you just did, sort of. The movies were distracting, and all that, and you were planning on trying to get your bodies switched back and it somehow completely slipped your mind.

Slipped your mind that you lied to your Mom and _actually_ – _actually_ did what she believes you do: tell her things that didn’t happen. And got your brother in trouble. You were mad at the time, but now… _oh, no_ is the only thing you can think. You hadn’t bargained on this.

“He’s – he’s not mad, is he?” you ask quietly, suddenly gripped by realization of how _easy_ it would be for him to deny you the opportunity to switch your bodies back and keep you trapped in his forever. You’re not sure if he would do that, nor even why he would want to, but he _could_ , and that by itself is enough.

Ferb blinks. “I have not seen him since I left the house. When I returned after the Switcher vanished, I was told the story, but forbidden to enter the room.”

“Oh, gosh, no, Ferb, I’m sorry, I – I didn’t mean it!” You fumble with your words, for some reason desperate to justify yourself to him. “It was – I mean, he’d ruined my date, and I was mad, and Mom asked me – and I just – I said the first thing that came to mind, and I – I didn’t mean, I swear! I’m sorry, really I am, I – I”

He blinks at you again, pointing once more to the bedroom door. And though you don’t often understand his gestures or expressions, this time, at least is clear enough. Apologizing to Ferb isn’t going to do any good at all, is it?

You swallow hard.

This is not going to be fun.


	8. Unintended Consequences

Ferb stares at you for a moment more before continuing downstairs, leaving you alone in the dimly lit hallway. Now everything’s flooding back to you – everything that happened _before_ you stormed out of the house after Jeremy, intent on trying to patch up the horrific ‘date’ that he didn’t even consider as such.

Okay, okay, okay… so this isn’t _that_ bad, right? You just – you just kinda got yourself grounded big time. And by ‘yourself’ you actually got _brother_ grounded, and by ‘got grounded’ you… basically lied directly to Mom to do so.

She believed you, of course, without a moment’s hesitation. Because when it comes down to _your_ word versus your brother’s… there’s really no contest there, as far as she’s concerned. And as much as you want to, and as much as it pains you to admit it, you really can’t blame her for that. It’s not like you can’t hear the stories you’re always telling, and with the stupid Force always there to make sure she never sees any _proof…_ it’s kinda part of the reason why you have to bust your brothers someday, honestly.

Just because it’s logical, and it makes sense, and you can’t even really blame _Mom_ for it – it doesn’t mean it doesn’t still sting, a lot, and you’re never gonna stop busting until you’ve managed to vindicate yourself because of it.

Not that that’s… the important thing, the thing you’re supposed to be doing right now, either. Of course, you also think, as you stare at your bedroom door while drilling your toes into the carpet, you’re not really _required_ to do anything, either. Stacy’s idea is a pretty stupid one anyway, right?

There’s… nothing saying you _have_ to go in there, not really. You’re Phineas, after all (at least for right now) – you have your ‘own’ bedroom and bed and all that. Which is a… shared bedroom with Ferb, of all people – not exactly the person you _want_ to confront right now – but it’s still an option, right?

Oh, sheesh… what did you get yourself into this time? You can’t just… just walk in there, not right now. It’d be so – it’d be so embarrassing! And okay, yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have done that – so what’s your brother going to say about it anyway? He’s not gonna want to see _you_ , is he? You wouldn’t think so, at least. He’ll be, like, mad, or something – which for Phineas, is a bit of a contradiction in terms, but what _else_ would he be feeling?

You don’t like it when your brother gets mad. It’s just – it’s just weird. He’s basically _never_ mad, so when he actually is you just get really self-conscious about it. It doesn’t help when he yells at you, either. He’s _Phineas_ , he’s not supposed to be ‘mad’ and it’s kinda… well, you want him busted, of course, but you’ve never actually tried to make him _mad_ at you, nor would you want that, either.

When you _do_ bust him, he’ll probably be all… disappointed, or something, but not mad, you don’t think. Because then it’ll be fair and square. This was… admittedly, neither fair nor square, and you just… you really don’t want to face your brother right now, not really.

Is that bad? You’re not sure, but you don’t want to stand around and think about it anymore if you don’t have to. It makes you _feel_ bad, at least, and that’s not something you need more of, not after the kind of day you’ve had today. Failure you’re used to by this by point, but _guilt_?

… you gotta stop thinking about this. Just stop.

Your stomach churns uneasily as you turn, equally uneasily, away from the door.

The fact that it is actually the door to your room as well makes itself extremely apparent within moments too, as you find yourself turning in a complete circle and almost touching the doorknob again. But, no, you resist the habit and resolutely return back downstairs, in desperate need of some distraction. Besides, it’ll be dinnertime soon, right? Surely. If you just… don’t _think_ about it, maybe it’ll all go away.

Dinner, when it comes shortly after, is even less fun than you could’ve imagined. Mom and Dad are pleasant as always, but your macaroni and cheese is exceptionally dry and tasteless for some reason, and the empty spot next to you where you normally sit – where you’d be sitting if you had your own body – is certainly not helping. Ferb watches you from across the table, unblinking, and part you becomes rapidly thankful that you actually can’t understand his blinks, because you’re not sure that you’d want to understand them, not now.

You try to focus on the food in front of you, but it’s just so… unappetizing, and you’re not really even hungry in the first place, and you know Mom and Dad are expecting you to be the talkative one, but but there’s no way in heck that you’re even gonna even make an attempt at that.

Ferb, though – he _knows_ , and you know it, and you can feel his eyes on the top of your head through the whole forty minutes or however long it takes – it certainly _feels_ like a long time, at the very least.

“Are you feeling alright, Phineas?” Dad asks near the end of the meal, only seconds before you were planning to ask if you could be excused to get the heck out of there. Not that you have anywhere to really _go…_ but anywhere would be better than in here, seriously.

“Uh, ye – yes. Of course,” you mumble. “I’m fine. Can I – I just be excused, please?”

Mom frowns. “You were out there in the rain for a long time today, honey. Maybe you got a cold. Here, come here and let me feel your forehead.”

“No, Mom, I swear I’m alright, I just-”

“Phineas, just come over here, will you?”

Heaving a sigh, you comply, sliding out of your chair and crossing the dining room floor, standing quietly as Mom puts her palm across your forehead. Ferb is looking at you again, and you, well, you never noticed before how intriguing the wood grain the dinner table actually is.

“Well, that’s odd – you’re not warm. But you have been acting a bit strange all day, now that I think about it.” She taps her chin for a moment. “Maybe I ought to take your temperature.”

“No, Mom, I’m fine! I’m fine! I promise – It’s all good. I’m feeling great. I could run laps around the house or something, if I wanted to.” There’s a tingly itch behind your left ear, and you brush at it, wincing, carefully avoiding your brother’s constant gaze in favor of fixing your eyes on Mom’s face.

She seems a little skeptical for some reason, but eventually relents. “This… it wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with your sister getting in trouble, would it?”

For a second, fear grips at you. She hasn’t found out, has she? No, that’s impossible. The Mysterious Force would never allow it. A lump is in your throat out of nowhere, and you swallow hard, trying to push it down.

“I promise, no,” you lie. “I’m totally fine. I’m just… not hungry tonight. I, uh-” mustering up the rest of your willpower, you flash a smile. Somehow, even though you can’t see your own face, you just _know_ that it’s nowhere as wide as the ones your brother does. That’s just the thing, though – you’re _not_ your brother. Your brother is… well, he’s upstairs. Upstairs in your room because you- “-I’m allowed to be not hungry, aren’t I?”

“I suppose so, yes,” Mom muses. She looks over at Dad, and he only shrugs. “Well, if you insist, I suppose. Take care of your dishes, and yes, you can be excused.”

Never in your life have you been so relieved to hear those words. Mumbling out a quick ‘thank you’ - or at least something that sounds roughly like it – you pick up your bowl and head into the kitchen.

The problem, of course, is that rinsing it out only takes moments, and even though you went ahead and straight-up washed it, and then had to drag out your brothers’ blasted stepstool again to reach the cupboard where it goes, you’re still done all too soon.

You can’t stay in the kitchen, at least – there’s nothing to do there. You’re certainly not going to hang out in the dining room after just asking to be excused, and with your other brother sitting, like, _right_ there. And considering you _did_ just ask to be excused at all, the entire living room is probably out – you  can’t imagine your parents being to pleased to see that you asked just to go sit in front of the television fifteen feet away.

 Which, of course, leaves upstairs as the only real option you have… but upstairs is also the last place you want to go.

Now that you’ve gotten away from the table, you’re also kinda starting to get hungry, too, which is vaguely maddening considering you just had all that food in front of you – but at the table your stomach was churning so hard you really thought you’d just throw up if you tried to choke down more than a few bites.

There’s not even anything to do upstairs either, you realize a little bit too late to actually help it. It’s your brothers’ room – of course there wasn’t going to be anything. Not even Phineas’ crappy phone is any help here, as your desperate texts shot at Stacy go unanswered and the evening drags along. You flop down across your brother’s bed. If nothing else, it’s at least to scale for your horridly short height, so that’s… a small benefit?

You probably ought to be more thankful for that than you feel right now, but you’re having a hard time feeling anything _except_ uncomfortable. It’s obviously too warm to pull your brother’s bedcovers up, being summertime and all, yet you’re somehow too chilly to sit comfortably, either. It doesn’t help that you _are_ in your brother’s room, where having your eyes open at all, no matter which direction they’re facing, endlessly reminds you of your brother – your brother sitting alone in-

No, no, no – you can’t do this. You gotta – gotta stop thinking about this now. This is _Phineas and Ferb_ ’s bedroom, after all; there’s gotta be something to distract you in here. Some kinda super-mega-metal-extendy-rampy-thing or… whatever. It just seems like something they would have, right?

Unfortunately, though, in a complete contrast to what you – or anyone – would reasonably be able to expect from your brothers, the room seems to be about what you would expect from an _ordinary_ twelve-year-old boy’s bedroom. Sure, you do stumble back on your brother’s scrapbook from past projects, and their binder of potential future ideas, tucked away in a drawer from Phineas’ desk, but they’re basically useless – full of crude drawings and completely illegible math-looking scribbles, and you know they’d never be accepted by Mom as evidence of anything more than ‘an active imagination’.

The blueprint from the giant machine from today is in there, tucked neatly into the scrapbook with today’s date inscribed carefully into one of the upper corners in Ferb’s distinctively square handwriting – followed up by the much more difficult-to-read squiggles that Phineas left scrawled all over the paper.

You’re definitely not one to sit and stare at the books all evening, though – sit and what, reminiscence over how much of a failure you are? You can do that without the help of either of the scrapbooks.

There’s nothing under Ferb’s bed, and there’s no space beneath Phineas’ bed at all. Eventually, for lack of anything at all better to do, you pick a book at random from the latter’s desk and upon realizing that you’ve picked up _Advanced Rocket Sciences: It’s Not – Oh, Never Mind_ you choose another in a most decidedly _not_ random manner and toss yourself down on his bed to read.

The new book is still not all that interesting, some novel about the loss of the lighthouse or something, and you struggle even more to get into it because for the life of you, you just can’t get comfortable. Just _can’t_ , and it’s the absolute worst sensation.

What _is_ it about this, now, that’s got you all bothered? You don’t usually feel like this, not even after busting, not any time in the past recent enough for you to remember at all. And now it’s just… your thoughts keep drifting away from the words on the page, back through the wall separating you from your brother.

How mad is he, honestly? Does he really hate your guts now? You… you don’t actually want _that_ , but…

Frustrated, uncomfortable, both hot and cold and somewhere between at the same time, you groan and chuck the book onto the floor, yanking up the covers over your head in disgust, thrusting your head back into the pillows and glaring as hard as you can muster into the fabric covering your face.

You’re not sure how much time passes, honestly, but at some point you hear footsteps and muffled conversation from down the hall. Then more footsteps, followed by the creaking of wood from the other bed in the room.

“Candace.” Ferb’s voice suddenly splits the silence.

You hold your breath and clench your fists beneath the covers, refusing to answer. Maybe he’ll think you’re asleep or something. He’s not gonna sit up and try talking to you all night, is he? Surely not.

And you’re right, of course. There’s a few more tense moments, ones in which you’re forced to carefully let your breath out through your nose to maintain the illusion, but the light goes out, and the bed on the other side of the room lets out a few more creaks as he settles down into it.

You don’t move a muscle, lying stock still and silent, waiting for some interminable length of time until you begin to hear the faint snores that are an unmistakable indicator that he’s fallen asleep. Your brothers have always seemed to fall asleep in seconds at night, and you do too, most of the time, if the day’s busting efforts was particularly strenuous or not.

Not tonight, though. You probably should have seen it coming. Your stomach rumbles, but you can’t think of a single food that you would want to actually _eat_ , either. You’re hot and cold and neither laying on your back or your stomach or your sides seems to help, despite the fact that you tried all the positions in the space of about ten minutes. One side of the pillow is too hot, and you start sweating, but flipping it over just makes you so cold that goosebumps start showing up and you almost shiver.

It gets better – even grows pleasantly warm for a moment – but then that moment’s over and it starts getting far too hot beneath your head again.

By the fourth flip you’re about ready to pitch the stupid thing across the room and just try sleeping directly on the mattress without one at all.

Instead, you sit up, covering your face with your hands. Despite your best efforts to the contrary, this is _impossible_. You can’t forget everything and just go to sleep – not when by the feel alone you can tell that you’re not in your own bed, not in your own pajamas. Your hand creeps along the edge of the pillow at the head of the bed, but there’s nothing there, either. There wouldn’t be, of course, it not being your bed… but you’d give anything to have Ducky Momo to hang onto right now, just to have something to squeeze and unload your frustrations and fears onto, to ease the guilt eating at you that refuses to be shaken, no matter what you try, or how desperately you try it.

But he’s not here, of course, and the room is dark and Ferb’s still sound asleep by the sound of his snores.

You can’t take it anymore. Just… just can’t.

You’re not sure if Phineas’ll be awake still – and he’s probably not, because no one takes these things as seriously as you do, you’re pretty sure – but you don’t care. If he’s asleep, then you’re just gonna wake him up. You can’t go on like this.

All afternoon and evening you’ve been trying to avoid thinking about it, about the confusion and hurt that flashed through his eyes when he looked back at you while going up the stairs. You tried not to think about it, because it bothered – it bothers – you. And he’s probably still mad at you, and it’d be only fair anyway, but even that would be better, you think.

At least if he’s mad he’ll probably just order you out of his or something, but he won’t look… so profoundly disturbed, in that way that he did earlier on the stairs. Anger, much as you dislike it, you can handle. That – this… hurt look, though – the hurt and the knowledge that you were pretty much the cause for – you can’t. Not in a million years of busting, even.

You’ve always known they wouldn’t like to be busted, of course – that’s just the rules of the game. But you certainly didn’t think they’d look like _this_. Surely not – surely this is something different, something different because it was, well, also your fault for-

You hesitate at the word, not quite wanting to condemn yourself with the title when you know it’s only accurate now. How can you show your face in front of Mom and Dad again – how can you get upset when Mom doesn’t believe the stories you tell? The one thing that you could always take comfort of a sort in – that no matter how crazy and made-up your stories sounded, that you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they were all the stone-cold truth…

… and it’s just a little bit too late for the realization that you screwed up big-time to actually help.

Either way, going to sleep now is obviously out of the picture. Despite all your best efforts, there’s just no way. Which only leaves one thing for you to do in an effort to soothe your conscience. The catch, of course, being that you really don’t _want_ to – to go in there with him. It’s just too easy to sit here on the bed and picture how angry he might be – he’s not gonna want to see you, will he?

And what if he doesn’t? What’re you gonna do then?

You don’t the answer to that, but it’s a chance you’re going to have take if you want even a shot at not feeling so miserable and guilty.

Ferb’s snores hiccup slightly as you sneak out of the room, but you freeze in place until they resume, and in another few steps you’re out into the relative safety of the carpeted hall.

Standing in front of your own door is another thing altogether, another thing much more frightening than you could ever have pictured it being even just this morning. It swings silently into the room, and your brother’s snores – strange, you’ve never heard Phineas snore before? – become audible as you creep inside.

He’s asleep?

Maybe you don’t need to do this after all, then. It’s obviously not _that_ important to him… not even enough to keep him from falling asleep like everything’s normal? He’s even taken the time to move Ducky Momo and Mr. Miggins off your bed and over onto your vanity. Perhaps that’s not so unusual, though. There wouldn’t be a lot else he’d be able to do cooped up in here, would there?

You have to at least make effort – as much for your own sake as his at this point. It doesn’t even matter if he yells and orders you away from him at this point. At least you’d deserve that – and it would be better than this. It’s late, yes, but you’re beyond caring.

Clambering up onto your bed, you yank back the covers and grab ahold of his shoulders. “Phineas! Phineas! Wake up!” you hiss as loudly as you can whisper. “Wake up! We – we need to talk.”

The snoring abruptly stops in some kind of ungainly snort, and he mumbles something incomprehensible as his eyes begin fluttering. You stop hissing, but not shaking, until you see them fully open in the dim light cast by your nightlight.

“Wh-h- how am I – Candace?”

“Yes, it’s me,” you whisper loudly. “Are you awake?”

He blinks, and the confusion etched on his face fades away as he looks down at himself and the pajamas that are anyone’s but his he’s wearing. “Yes? What-” and then, you can tell, he _remembers_ “-oh.”

“I’m sorry!” you burst, unable to hold it back in any longer. “I didn’t mean to-” well, that’s not true, you _did_ actually mean to “-I didn’t – I hadn’t – I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking?” That much, at least, is true. You shake your head. “I’m sorry, Phineas. I just… I don’t know.”

Phineas stares at you for a moment, and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t look entirely well. Hurt, even, and your gut is already clenched enough waiting in morbid anticipation for some sort of reaction of temper – and from the belated realization that you’re not even the physically stronger one anymore, so there would truly be no recourse for you.

The last time you lost your temper on your brother flickers through your mind, and you’ve got a distinct picture there of snatching him up by the front of his shirt-collar to yell into his face with his feet off the floor altogether. Which is something… you probably shouldn’t do, honestly, but sometimes you can’t help yourself when he makes you so _mad_ and now… now you won’t be able to help it either, if he should decide to pay you back in kind for everything you’ve ever done to him.

Nothing happens, though, even though your heart is pounding in your ears so loudly you’re surprised that your parents can’t hear it from their room.

“Wh-” he starts, then shakes his head. “I don’t understand, Candace?” There’s a note in his voice that stabs into your gut almost tangibly. “Why did you – did you-”

You swallow hard. He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for you to know where he’s going – what he’s driving at. How could you not? “I don’t know, Phineas,” you admit. “I mean, I guess I do? I was just mad at you for ruining my date with Jeremy and it seemed like an opportunity to, I don’t, get-” your voice falters at the look in his eyes, resting solidly on you. You’ve seen your own face plenty of times in the mirror, but you’d swear that you’ve never seen anything approaching this expression on it.

It’s a switch thing, of course. For as much as the body is yours, the mind running things behind the scenes is your little brother’s, and that’s… something that is painfully evident in even in the smallest of details. Frankly, it might be from the many hours you’ve spent watching him through binoculars in your busting efforts, but you almost don’t know how Mom and Dad can look at him and not immediately realize that he is, in fact, Phineas. It just permeates your body so entirely that that the fact that it's your body is almost… less important.

“-get back at you for that,” you lamely finish, after a pause that’s too long to be anything other than awkward. “I don’t know. It was stupid, I guess, I just… I was really mad.” Which isn’t an excuse, as Mom has told you multiple times, but it’s the only explanation you’ve really got right now. “You’re – you’re not mad, are you?”

He’s sitting up on the bed now, looking down you on your knees next to him. “I… was.”

“You – you _were_?” Does this mean that he’s not anymore or-

“Yeah.” He looks vaguely ashamed for some reason that completely eludes you, considering the circumstances. “I – I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t understand why you – why you said that? And I just… well, it wasn’t right. You wouldn’t – I mean, I know it’s not like you to want to me in trouble.” And there’s that again, too. You swallow another lump in your throat, unsure of and unwilling to consider the implications of the statement. “I guess – I mean, I tried with Jeremy, I really did. I just didn’t want to, you know, actually _kiss_ him and I’m sorry for ruining your date by doing that.” He smiles faintly. “I guess everybody loses their temper every now and then?”

You’ve never made a secret of your desires and habits in busting – not hardly. Everyone knows about it, to the point where you’re aware that it’s starting to come between you and Stacy at times. (Despite the fact that she should know that you really can’t help it, either, because it just isn’t _fair_.) But you’ve certainly never tried hiding it from anyone – and it would be impossible if you tried.

How your brother seems to have this idea that you don’t want him in trouble is… you don’t understand, either. He is, of course, your little brother. You _do_ love him, but… but gosh darn it if it’s not the most unfair thing on the face of the earth, and you’re going to make sure he doesn’t get away with all his stupid inventions if it’s the absolute last thing you do. He’s going to get in trouble – that’s a fact you can’t hide from, and it’s honestly something you ever even _considered_ hiding from, either? Or hiding from him, and yet… you don’t get it.

He’s oblivious, yes, but _that_ oblivious? Can it even be?

“I – I guess so?” you manage to stammer.

“Yeah.” He looks away from you for a moment. “Kinda like me back on our trip around the-”

“Phineas, please, when are you going to stop apologizing for that? I’ve told you it’s fine, what, like a hundred times by now? Just drop it, okay?”

He hesitates again. “Okay. But I am sorry for – for ruining your date. I promise I didn’t mean to.”

The look in his eyes is so… really broken up, and so regretful, and so _unlike_ how your brother is supposed to look that you have to do something about it, or you’re not going to be able to stand to look at him for much longer.

“It – it – you really didn’t,” you force yourself to confess. “It was me. I was just… just…” You were just what, exactly? Mad because your brother was managing to be more comfortable and interact more easily with Jeremy than you’ve ever figured out how to do? That he’s a better Candace Flynn than you – than Candace Flynn herself? “Jealous, I guess?” You ‘guess’. Like it’s that much of a question.

“Jealous?” Now the regret in his face and tone is mostly gone, replaced with a much more familiar – and more comfortable to see – confusion mingled with curiosity. “Of me? For what?”

Oh, great. Now there’s a question you weren’t exactly prepared for. Even just the thought of voicing the answer that you know to be true brings the heat creeping up your cheeks.

“I – I – don’t know,” you return, even though that it’s very much a lie. And it _is_ a lie, too, the thing that you’re not _supposed_ to be doing, and yet here you are – with your brother, no less, one of the last people on the face of the earth that you ought to have to lie to. There are some situations… well, Jeremy is a special case – it’s not even ‘lying’ so much as protecting him from things he wouldn’t like about you, things that would negatively impact your relationship with him. Not that it seems like it’s helping very much, despite all your best efforts.

Your shoulders slump. You try so hard with him, really you do. You should’ve known that it was never going to work out anyway, if not because of the body-switch, then because of something else. He’s _Jeremy Johnson_. You’re _you_. You’re just not – just can’t be – ever good enough. “I just… I was just worried that he – Jeremy – was gonna figure out what happened to us, and it would weird him out – and I do enough of that already without any help – and then you ruined-” you hesitate, recalling what Jeremy said while you walked to his house with him “-and then I _thought_ you ruined it, and I just got so angry, you know? But it wasn’t actually your fault anyway." 

No, it wasn’t his fault – except in that he’s better than you at everything, but you could probably have expected that anyway.

Phineas looks confused for a moment – at least, as far as you can see in the only dimly-lit room – but his expression clears eventually. “It’s okay, sis,” he says. “I can’t really blame you for losing your temper once, can I? Not when I did the same thing – that wouldn’t be fair.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You’re not so sure where he gets this idea about your apparent restraint of temper – enunciating ‘once’ like that, like it’s the first time in years, and not something he and Ferb drive you to on a regular, almost daily basis.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You hesitate, but what’s the harm anymore? No one can you hear you – everyone else is fast asleep. Probably everyone else in Danville as a whole, because _most_ people are normal and don’t have to have worries like this. “It’s just – you talked to Jeremy, you know? And I saw, well, heard it. And heard from him and… oh, I don’t know, exactly, but you – he said that you actually _didn’t_ ruin the date.” You’re not going to get into the fact that he also didn’t consider it a ‘date’ at all, apparently – there are some things your little brother just won’t get, after all.

“I didn’t?” He looks upbeat now. “Well, that’s a good thing, right? I mean, I thought that was what we were going for, wasn’t it?”

Honestly, you could have expected a response like that – you _should have_ , even. He is Phineas, after all – and there is a part of you that is comforted to see him acting so much more like normal instead of all… upset and unsettled-like. That was just _wrong_ , really, and the fact that it was kinda sorta pretty much entirely your fault didn’t help.

“I guess so?” you say. “But that wasn’t the point, Phineas, the point was for you to be _me_ , and instead you were a – a better version of me? And you’re not even _me_. And now when we get switched back again, Jeremy’s gonna wonder why I got so lame all the sudden, and he’s gonna start looking for people who aren’t so lame – other people, who aren’t me. You catch my drift?”

Phineas blinks. “I… think so?” He brushes his hair out of his face. “Gah. I don’t know how you stand this stuff.”

“It doesn’t do that if you just brush it,” you point out dryly. “But stick to the subject, will you?”

“I mean, I know you said you didn’t want to, but wouldn’t it help if you just told Jeremy what happened – so he knows it’s actually me and not you?”

You bury your face in your hands. It just serves you right, subconsciously hoping that maybe your brother would be able to solve this issue, too. He may be capable of a lot, but certainly not this. “No, no, Phineas, that’s… just, no. That’s not going to help.” It should be obvious, but of course it wouldn’t be to Phineas. You’ll just have to – to try and live up to the reputation your brother is establishing for you, or something. Maybe come up with some sort of really big and impressive romantic gesture to prove yourself to Jeremy for a bit once you’ve switched back. It’d have to be big, though – given that it’d have to compete with your _brother’s_ reputation.

And you’re never going to be able to imitate the way he sat and talked so casually, like it was the least important thing in the world, but you’re just going to have to try anyway. And if you should fail, like you so often do... you don't even want to think about what the consequences would be.

“Oh.” Phineas’ eyes dart around the room quickly before settling back on you. “Sorry.”

Of course, all these contingency plans have one thing in common – that being that they all hinge on the very crucial key of you and Phineas switching bodies back to normal again. Until _that_ happens, though – and it has to, and has to soon – you’re kinda dead in the water on this, any potential option you could take only winding up in making things more difficult for you once you’ve returned to your own body. And that doesn’t take into the account the fact that, well, you do _not_ intend to live out the rest of your life as your _brother_.

No. That, at the very least, is not happening. And since it _is_ so important…

“When are you going to get us fixed, anyway?” You make a face. “I’m tired of being… so short and – and you, really. I should be _me_. This is just… wrong.”

“I agree, yes,” he replies. “Baljeet did make those suggestions for our machine – I was intending to try them today, but the rain and the, uh, the stuff, it got in the way. Guess we’ll have to wait til tomorrow, then? We can wake up bright and early and head out to the yard and-” he suddenly stops, the lightheartedness in his face draining like someone just pulled out a stopper from somewhere in his brain. “-and I guess – I guess you guys’ll have to head out there… you know. Without me.”

The discomfort on his features is enough to make you physically cringe. “Oh… yeah. I – I’m sorry about that, I swear, I – it was really dumb after I knew Mom was mad from last night and now I’ve got you – oh, I’m so _stupid_. Stupid, stupid, stupid!” You honestly feel like banging your head against a wall right now. For crying out loud, you have enough issues right now to be dealt with – you don’t need to keeping piling your _own_ plate higher and higher!

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Phineas consoles you, though the expression he’s wearing looks anything but ‘fine’. “I’ll be fine. It’s – it’s not the end of the world, after all. There’s a hundred and four days of summer vacation, after all. I’m only here for the next-” he exhales heavily “-the next ten of those.”

“Did Mom and Dad tell you that?”

“After you left, yeah.”

You nod dully. Somewhere in the back of your mind it registers that switching back into your own body is _also_ going to condemn you to be grounded for the rest of that sentence, too. It’s far, far past Saturday – that date with Jeremy is completely down the toilet. It’s going to be nightmarish. A _week and a half_ – almost two?

The only comfort there is that you’ll at least be in your own body again, but it’s suddenly looking like a rather small comfort indeed. Ten days? That’s… like, forever, or something. And as you look over at your brother, you realize that, for once, it actually looks like you’re on the same page about something.

“That’s a long time,” you whisper.

He nods. “It’s nearly a tenth of vacation.” There’s a pause, and you actually see him working to calm himself. Eventually he smiles, but it’s a small, faint thing compared to what you’re used to seeing on his face. “But it’ll be okay. There’s plenty of stuff to do in here, you know?”

You grimace. This was… well, you could’ve guessed he would react _sort of_ like this to the prospect of grounding, given who he is and all, but not _exactly_ like this – nor could you have anticipated how bad it’s making you feel – and worse for the realization that _this_ is, logically, the what the end result of busting would be, if you should ever succeed one day.

That’s… not a pleasant thought consider. You can’t _stop_ – there’s too much to lose, but at the same time, now the concept of success is a little tainted – tainted by seeing the look in your normally happy-go-lucky brother’s eyes right now.

“One thing that is unfortunate, though,” he continues. “If we get switched back before ten days are up, then _you’re_ going to be the one in trouble.”

“I… yeah.” You swallow. “I know.” To be fair, you would deserve it, wouldn’t you? How he can even view it as ‘unfortunate’ when this whole situation was your fault in the first place is beyond you, and it only makes you feel more guilty – perhaps more guilty than you did before coming in here in the first place.

“Well, I guess you’d probably think it a fair trade for getting back in your own body again,” he muses, laughing for a moment – though it is true, yes. You certainly would. “And if it’s not until after ten days… then I guess you get the added plus of not being grounded at all. Which certainly ought to make your life better, or at least cheer you up a bit.”

“Yeah, I guess it would,” you agree, even though you feel a bit dirty for even agreeing at all. “I should-” and then, out of the blue, something clicks in your brain. “Wait, wait, Phineas, what did you just say?”

“That it would cheer you up a bit?”

“No, no, before that, I meant.

“Oh, uh, that it would probably make your life a little better, I think?” He frowns at you in confusion. “Why?” 

 Could this – it’s stupid, yeah, but you’ve seen stupider and crazier things before, too. Like the inexplicable giant floating baby head, like, what is up with that? And if _that_ can be true…

“Okay, okay, you’re gonna think this is dumb, but bear with me for a second, okay?” You gesture about  with your hands in the air. “See, I was at Stacy’s house today, too, and we got to talking about this sort of stuff, right? About the body-switching thing, and we were trying to figure out how it happened – also how to get it to get to go back, of course.”

“Right?”

“Well, see, that’s the whole thing -  Stacy got this idea from these movies that she saw once that this sort of thing is, like, some kind of… way for the universe to make people get along with each other or whatever? And that if we could just make each other’s lives better in some way, it would go back to normal, just like that, all by itself."

“All by itself?”

“All by itself.”

Phineas frowns, and taps his chin for a moment. “That’s… an odd concept – though I can’t help but wonder why the ‘universe’ would think that we need any help getting along in the first place? I mean, we get along just fine, don’t we?”

You grimace slightly. “I… guess so?” It’s not like you _hate_ him or anything, of course not. And you don’t even fight that much, though that’s mostly because he tends to ignore when you yell at him anyway. Which is lucky, because even you’ll admit you _do_ yell a lot – it’s because he deserves it, obviously, but even so.

Besides, you’re talking about the literal _Mysterious Force_ here, or some cosmic equivalent, and come on, it’s got ‘Mysterious’ right there in the name, for goodness’ sake. Do you really need some sort of concrete, airtight reasoning here?

“Why does the Mysterious Force do anything at all?” you exclaim. “I mean, really, what sort of motivation could it possibly have?” Other than humiliating you, perhaps, which could in itself be the reason behind this, as opposed to any sort of overarching… ‘moral’ of some kind. Not that you’d be much inclined to take any moral beaten over your head by the Force seriously anyway. Always judge a book by its cover, you say – that’s what they’re there for. And you’ve seen the ‘cover’ of the Force more than enough times to pass your final judgment on it.

“If you say so,” Phineas muses. “Well, I suppose you _could_ try and take today’s mishap as support of that theory, too, but that seems a bit of a stretch to me. We probably still ought to try Baljeet’s tweaked specifications tomorrow even so.” He hesitates painfully. “Ferb and everyone else, I mean.”

You look down, embarrassed, wishing with all your might that the Force would rewind time for you right now. (It doesn't.) “Right. Of course. But it – it’s good to have a contingency plan, right? And now we could.” You pause for a moment, recalling the original obstacle – the one that prompted you to dismiss the idea  back when Stacy first brought it up. “Of course, that technically means that _I_ would also have to find some way to make _your_ life better. Which… shoot.”

Yeah, that’s going to be impossible, isn’t it?

“What do you mean, like, do a favor for me?” he echoes. “Well, that’s not hard.”

“It’s _not_?” You can hardly believe your ears. “Wh – how? What could I _possibly_ do that you couldn’t do just as easily yourself? I mean, Phineas, you’re like – some sort of genius. I’m…” You don’t finish the sentence, but the meaning is implied just as much in your brain anyway. _Whatever_ he is, you definitely are _not_.

“I shouldn’t think so, no? At least not the goal – accomplishing it? I don’t know, though if anyone could do it, it’d be you anyways, sis.” He smiles at you. “See, for quite a long time now I’ve been looking for a left-handed flange tuner. They make ‘em custom for the Danville Sewage Repair, and I haven’t been able to get ahold of one yet. But if you could, well, it would certainly help me out. I mean, using the right-handed – the ‘normal’ – tuners is possible, of course, but I always get oil all over the side of my hand when I do that, and it’s – it’s not that ideal.”

“Seriously?” you deadpan.

“Seriously.” He nods emphatically, his head bobbing up and down enough to make it vaguely resemble an ocean buoy of a sort. “If you could get ahold of one of those for me? I’d definitely consider it to have made my life better, for a hundred percent.”

Well, it’s… not quite as impossible-sounding a task you’d been expecting him to say, although the fact that he’s apparently failed up until isn’t a good omen either. Still, maybe it just needs a more… mature approach, or something. You do have to remember that, for everything that he is, he _is_ a kid, too, unlike you (of course). You could… probably manage this, right?

“The Danville Sewage Repair?” you ask again. Definitely you can – especially if that’s the line it happens to come down to. You’re not sure just _why_ you’re gradually becoming more committed to this theory… considering it’s built on nothing but the conjecture of your notoriously absent-minded friend and her collection of movies, but you still are. Perhaps it’s something to do with the fact that it would mean (for once) that you actually have some degree of control over your own fate, as opposed to being unable to alter the outcome of your life, having to rely on your little brothers for every little thing that comes along.

“That’s the place,” he confirms. “I looked up the address of the central office at some point but then I forgot it – it was a while ago. I – I hate to ask you for _that_ , I mean, you won’t believe the trouble I went through last time I tried, and that was last year sometime, but it is the first thing that really ‘comes to mind’, if you know what I mean? Like, the biggest thing. Now, if you want-”

“Nah, nah, I can totally get this thingy for you,” you boast confidently. “I’m fifteen years old, Phineas – I’ve been around the block a lot more times than you have. I got this – you just watch.” And maybe, just maybe, it’ll actually do the trick and you’ll have actually _saved yourself_ for once. Wouldn’t that be a treat?

“If you say so,” he replies. “Any other time I’d offer to go with you, of course, but I… you know.” He smiles, though more faintly this time, with a hint of what looks a bit like reluctance inasmuch as you can see in the dimness. “I… don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow? I can’t go outside and I can’t-” his voice trails off for a moment, and he smiles again, bravely. “Well, I shouldn’t focus on that. I’m sure – I’m sure there’ll be something to do. Maybe I’ll… read a book or something.”

“Yeah, I… guess,” you reply lamely. What exactly are you supposed to say, though? Tell him it’s a good idea when you _know_ he doesn’t want to? Tell him it sounds boring when you know that’s exactly the issue he’s grappling with over it? Both options seem equally… just _mean_ , honestly, especially when the fact that it’s an ultimatum at all is entirely your fault and your fault alone. “I – I swear I’m sorry, Phineas. I didn’t – I just – I… don’t know. I’m so _sorry_ , though, I swear, I’ll never-”

You stop, abruptly, awkwardly, just before finishing the sentence. What were you going to say there, exactly? You’ll ‘never do it again’? That’s… you can’t exactly promise _that_ , can you? Not when it’s pretty self-explanatory that this would indeed be the result of a successful bust.

You’ve always failed before, but one day you’ll succeed. One day you _have_ to succeed. You’re… not going to give up, not now – you can’t! This is just… it’s… it’s something. Something that will be at the end, you know – and you knew before, but you definitely know now.

“You alright, Candace?” your brother asks, his voice breaking into your thoughts.

“Yeah, I – I’m fine,” you reply distractedly, brushing him off. “It’s – it’s late. I should probably go to bed now.” At least you can rest… a tiny bit easier, knowing that your brother doesn’t, like, actively hate your or anything, right?

Crawling up to the head of your bed, you peel back the covers and slide beneath. Phineas looks at you strangely, and you raise one eyebrow. “What?”

“This is – this my bed, remember?” he points out.

Suddenly you feel a little bit like facepalming, but resist the urge. “No, it’s still _my_ bed,” you declare stubbornly, not really wanting to leave the comfort of the familiar sheets. “I don’t care where you sleep, but I’m sleeping right here and not moving.”

“I… guess so?” Phineas hesitates. “Well, if that’s what you want, I guess.” He shrugs. “Goodnight, sis.”

You _are_ relieved to be back in your own bed to sleep, even if it’s in your brother’s body and with the bed not even empty aside from you. There’s just something about it that’s comforting. Phineas’ bed isn’t the worst thing in the world, but compared to your own? There’s just no contest.

“Goodnight, Phineas,” you reply, pulling one of the pillows over to your own side of the bed and snuggling down into it.

He says nothing back – and in a few minutes, though Phineas doesn’t snore, you can still hear his breathing become slow and steady, deep and rhythmic. It’s a bit like an odd kind of lullaby, providing a background noise that bears down heavily on your eyelids. And then he  _does_ start snoring, which is... unusual, to say the least.

Your brother isn’t mad at you (anymore), even though pretty much everything that went wrong is your fault (as it usually is.) That’s the good news – the part you ought to focus on. The rest is… too worrying and distressing to risk giving attention right now. Especially when you’re trying to sleep.

And it is a wonder just how much the right bed can do in that regard.

When your eyes open again, there’s a large warm presence pressed close against your body, wrapped around you, even, squeezing you tightly in the way you’ve seen Phineas strangle that meat brick of his when he’s sleeping.

You yawn, and blink at the sunlight streaming into the room, and struggle to move, but the arms folded around you only readjust their grip and constrict more tightly. The arms – they’re your own arms, too – well, they _were_. Now they’re your brothers, and you grunt through your teeth.

“Phin-e-as - wake up - let _go_ of me.”

Honestly you’re no longer surprised by how easily you’ve always been able to lift your brother off the ground. He’s freaking _asleep_ and your arms are pinned by his and you can’t get enough leverage in the tiny bit of slack you have to pry yourself away – and every time you move at all, he just snorts a bit and squeezes you even tighter.

“Phineas, I swear, if you don’t wake up this instant!” you snap, raising your voice from stage whispering to basically just ordinary speech. The absolute nerve of this kid, though! This is _not_ what sleeping in your _own_ bed is supposed to be like, for goodness sake. Where does he think he gets the right?

And, really, by this point, you’ve had _quite_ enough.

“Phineas!” and you’re only a notch below straight-up shouting. You jam your elbow into _something_ soft behind you, and that – finally – seems to get a reaction, as he mumbles incoherently, stirring and then rolls over on top of you. “No, don’t you da-!” And you get a mouthful of cotton sheet as your face is shoved into the mattress, his entire body weight atop yours.

This is the _last_ time you share a bed with your brother.

 


	9. An "A" for Effort

You do your best to swallow your guilt the next morning, when you finally leave your bedroom and head back to your brothers’. Phineas seems to be cheerful and all – as he would be, anyway – and he waves and smiles and bids you good luck and good morning, but though you try to smile back and say you’ll be careful, your feelings still belie the appearance you try to put on.

While you do feel perhaps slightly less bad for having made up with him, and for knowing that he doesn’t hate your guts for it, it doesn’t actually make you feel any better about it, either.

At least you can get Ferb to stop staring at you all judgmentally now. So there’s that, right? You’d like him to be all surprised that you actually went in there to your brother at all, but he’s Ferb, of course, and never looks surprised by anything.

He points to Phineas’ bed.

“Yeah, so what? It’s an uncomfortable piece of junk anyway,” you say defensively. “I have the right to sleep on my _own_ bed if I want to, you know. Just ‘cause I’m in a different body doesn’t mean my stuff isn’t mine anymore.” He shrugs, and you put your hands on your hips. “Geez. I thought you’d be _glad_ I went and made up with him. Wasn’t that why you were yelling at me all last night?”

And he just blinks at that, so you give up, already getting frustrated, and not wanting to start banging your head into this wall again so early in the morning. “Well, we did anyway. And I slept in there, because it’s _my_ bed and I can do whatever I want on it, including sleep there. Hmmph.” You snort, and glance down at yourself. “Ugh.”

You really ought to shower soon. Last night you only changed into pajamas and went to sleep, not exactly _wanting_ to have to shower, but it’s really starting to feel dirty now, and your hair is getting slick and greasy from the lack of washing.

Well, hopefully that won’t be a problem anyway – hopefully Phineas and you’ll get switched back before this evening, even. Then you’ll be grounded, of course, but you’ll in your own body again, and will be able to do things like shower – or even just change your underwear – without scarring yourself for life. Which you have already had to do, unfortunately, because you can never catch a break about anything.

At least if your brother has been through the… equivalent scenario (and you’re sure he has, because it’s well over a day by this point), he hasn’t so much as said a single thing about it, which is a tiny relief you can have.

“So, you are planning to build that switching machine again today, right?” you ask Ferb, as a method of distracting yourself while changing into a clean, new outfit, chucking the pajamas onto the floor. The clean clothes help only a little – you still feel dirty all over. (At least you know your brother also feels like this, so you’re not alone – though on second thought, you’re not sure why that thought would actually make you feel better? It… doesn’t, not really. And you just realized that it also means he’s getting your sheets all nasty, too, sleeping all up in them while dirty. Blegh.)

“I had supposed we were going to postpone the plans for today, yes,” he answers – verbally, thank goodness, probably only because you’re looking away.

And it’s a good answer – the answer you were wanting to hear. Because although you have your idea, and your own plan on how you might be able to fix this, you’re not ruling anything out just yet, either, and you sure as _anything_ don’t intend to let your other brother slack off, either.

“Well, good,” you reply. “I’m going to fetch a, uh… a thing for Phineas-” you wrote down what the thing was called on your brother’s phone last night, and you’d have to check and see what it was to remember “-call or text me or something if you get close to done and need me to come home. ‘cause I definitely will.” You pause, suddenly realizing that he probably has no idea what you’re talking about, which is something else you set about righting as quickly as you can.

He doesn’t look too impressed with the plan, but eventually admits that it can’t hurt to try. Which, while it isn’t a notion you’d say you agree with – it can _very much_ hurt to try, in the same way it hurts so very, very much almost every time you try and bust your brothers – you’re not going to let that stop you anyway. (You never have before, either.)

Breakfast without Phineas is… awkward, and it certainly doesn’t make you feel any better – mostly because it gives you all too perfect an opportunity to stare at his empty spot at the table next to you and feel ever more guilty. No matter how many times you tell yourself that it’s okay, really, that although he didn’t deserve it yesterday, he certainly earned for all those other things you repeatedly failed to bust… the image of his face last night keeps flickering through your head anyway, and it proves surprisingly effective at making you feel miserable indeed.

Mom looks puzzled and asks you why you’re sitting in your sister’s chair, and you mumble out some excuse about sitting down without realizing it. She doesn’t _mind_ – she isn’t mad – but still scratches her head for a moment before shrugging and patting you on top of the head and telling you to have a good day while she’s out.

“Mom,” you speak up suddenly, just before she steps out the door. “About, uh, Candace – don’t you think-”

She looks back, goodnaturedly. “Phineas, don’t start with me on this today, too.”

“No, I – I’m not,” you reply, squirming a little bit in your chair for reasons you don’t really know. It’s just the way Mom’s looking at you, right? Man, she’s so much taller than your brother is. It’s crazy – makes you feel like you’re practically an ant. “I just-”

Mom sighs, and smiles, though she shakes her head, too. She walks back towards you, away from the door, and ruffles your hair. “Look, Phineas, honey, I know you don’t like it when your sister’s in trouble – trust me, neither do I. But sometimes… things just happen, you know? And people have to deal with the consequences of their actions. Candace is not exempt from that, no matter how much you might want it.” She smiles again, and laughs a little bit. “I’m glad you two get along so well, at least. Maybe you ought to be the one to talk to her – maybe she’ll take it more seriously from you than me or your father anyway. You never know, right?”

“Uh… I… yeah? I guess so?” You aren’t really sure how to respond to that, but thankfully she doesn’t seem to notice you stumbling over your words anyway. There’s always the option of… well, it’s on the tip of tongue even now – just to blurt it out? ‘ _I lied, Mom. He didn’t do anything. It was my fault_.’ But you’re… you’re afraid of the trouble you might get into.

“Well, I do have to go now. Errands to run, and all that. Bye, you two. Have fun!”

“Yeah, sure, bye,” you mutter, feeling uniquely ashamed of yourself, watching as she quickly grabs up her purse and keys and trundles out of the house. Ferb’s staring at you again, and you glower at him across the table. “What?”

He shrugs, and you roll your eyes, hoping he can see you do it – but if he does, there’s no reaction. As is to be expected.

You alternate between moping and glaring – both at him and at your cereal for the rest of the meal, and as soon you’re done, you’re out of there as quickly as you can manage. Being out of the house – outside, and away from Phineas, cooped up in your bedroom like he is – it’s… it’ll help, or at least you hope it will, as long as you have something else to focus on.

Something that isn’t busting your brothers, which you… well, that’s – it’s probably best if you just handle one issue at a time anyway. First things first: get your own body back. If you can manage that, whether with your plan or Ferb’s machine, then everything else will hopefully be easier.

Except for the stuff with Jeremy. That you… frankly, have no idea what you’re going to do, and it terrifies you. But you can’t do anything about it while in your brother’s body anyway – no matter what you do it’ll only get worse, like some kind of awful catch-22. So you’ve still got this step to complete first.

And the first step of the first step is, of course, locating the main office of the Danville Sewage Repair. This actually isn’t as hard as you’d been expecting – just a quick search on the Internet does the trick. The DSR is apparently a branch of the Danville Sewer, Water, and Sanitation Facility, the office of which is downtown on the corner of Fourth and Main. It’s not a short walk, but it’s not anything outrageous, either. The weather’s pleasant and warm and the sky is clear from rainclouds. The ground is mostly dry, though grass and dirt still sponge a little underfoot.

It is a pretty nice day. In any other case, you’d probably be heading over – maybe to Stacy’s house or the Googolplex or something, or Stacy’s house and _then_ the Googolplex. It is the perfect day for shopping, after all, and Phineas’ birthday is coming up, too (and you have _no_ idea what you’re supposed to get for that – where do you even _start_ when it comes to giving gifts to the person who literally carved your head into a national monument for your birthday? How are you supposed to compete with that? You could literally cut off your head and give it to him on a platter and it still wouldn’t even come close.)

You do _text_ Stacy as you walk, and she asks you how you’re feeling, and is – as you could’ve predicted – pretty excited that you’re taking her harebrained idea as seriously as you are. Which you are, because really, are there that many other things you can do? There’s nothing else to do but sit around and wait for Ferb and the machine, which you _could_ do, but the idea of just doing _nothing_ and sulking about isn’t a very pleasant one, either – especially not when it would just serve to keep reminding you of all the _bad_ things about being in your brother’s body.

And speaking of being in your brother’s body, too, though you’d almost managed to forget about it – it’s not as weird as it sounds, it’s just that you don’t have anything close enough to you to really notice your abysmal height as you walk down the sidewalk, and there’s not really anything about being in his body that feels _intrinsically_ wrong, and it’s – it’s pretty much part of the reason why you’re going out like this now anyway – if you can keep your mind occupied, then you can forget for a little while that you _are_ in the wrong body, and… it – it makes it easier to cope.

Then there’s the times when people just walk up to you and casually address you by your brother’s name, which completely just takes ‘keeping yourself otherwise occupied’ and throws it all in the dirt.

“Hey, Phineas,” some kid says, waving and crossing the street over towards you.

You look – you don’t know this kid, though. He’s not one of your brother’s friends – well, not one his _close_ friends, at least, someone you’d recognize on sight like Baljeet or Isabella. He’s also considerably shorter than you, even though you are considerably shorter than, well, you – maybe he’s like nine or something? It’s hard to say.

“Hello?” you answer vaguely in response.

He doesn’t seem to notice out of the ordinary, at least, which is a good thing – and proceeds to adjust his baseball cap back and forth. “Nice to run into you. I’m headed to the ball pit at the park again – if you wanna talk, you’ll know where to find me.”

“Okay?”

And at the next intersection of streets he turns the corner while you walk straight, utterly confused as to exactly _he_ was supposed to be at all. It doesn’t matter, though – you’re almost to where you need to be, right in the heart of the downtown area. The buildings around you are less ‘houses’ now and more ‘apartment and office buildings’, and there’s more traffic and actual crosswalks you have to wait for.

The Danville Sewer, Water, and Sanitation Facility building is also there, just across the street from this giant purple-painted high-rise apartment that is, on a second glance at it, shaped vaguely like Ferb’s head when you look at it from the side.

Not that that matters – though as you’re standing at the crosswalk waiting for the traffic to stop, this old pharmacist-looking guy comes out of the doors of the purple building with a trash bag in his hands. He looks oddly familiar for some reason – you’d _swear_ you’d seen him before, but you just can’t quite put your finger on why, either.

(Though for some reason you feel like he should have eye-patch on, which is an even stranger feeling, because you know you’ve never seen him before and yet you can’t quite deny the odd sense of deja vu you’re getting just by looking at him.)

So you don’t – quickly looking away and staring at the cars and trucks in the street, waiting for the light to turn so you can cross to the building you want.

“Today has been _awful_ ,” he remarks out loud for some reason, though he doesn’t seem to be talking to you in particular. “As if getting crushed by a refrigerator wasn’t bad enough – I have to throw away my triple-garlic-scoop-roach-cone, too.” He jostles the trash bag in his hands a little bit, and you’d about swear you hear some sort of a faint whistling of some sort coming from it. “Oh, Hoarfrost, how I miss you.”

The light changes, and you jam your hands into your pockets, lowering your head, and stride across the street as meaningfully as you can. He follows you across – but turns to the right and heads off down the sidewalk on the other side. Still rambling the entire time, about what you know not, but you’re just glad to be away from him nonetheless.

You can’t get the notion that he should have an eyepatch out of your head, and it’s creeping you out a little bit for reasons you can’t explain – which is honestly most reasons nowadays anyway. Your brothers are probably to blame for this too, somehow.

“How can I help you?” the woman at the desk asks when you open the doors to the building and walk in. Hmm. For being the building that regulates all of Danville’s sewer systems, it looks an awful lot like an ordinary office building might.

“I need a – a thing,” you say. “Hang on.” Pulling out Phineas’ phone, you check the note you left yourself. “A left-handed flange tuner. Do you know where I can get one of those?”

The woman raises an eyebrow skeptically. “You want a sewer repair tool?”

“Yes?” you repeat. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it? I wouldn’t have asked for one if I didn’t want one, you know.”

She shrugs and mumbles “Well, whatever,” under her breath, then picks up the phone lying on her desk. “Mr. Sweetwater? Yes, yes sir – there’s some kid down here you wants to talk to you about acquisition. Yeah, an actual little kid who-”

“I’m not a kid!” you protest. “And not a ‘little’ one, either!” You haven’t lived through fifteen years of life to be called a ‘little kid’ by some office secretary who doesn’t even know you. You are _mature_ and, well, basically an adult by this point, really. It’s frustrating when people don’t see that, too – when you try so hard, and by ‘people’ you largely mean ‘Jeremy’, but that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms you have to deal with.

Maybe you ought to try going over there as your brother again and… and trying _something_? You’re honestly not sure what to do. Not sure what to do and it _terrifies_ you and staying away at least means you don’t have to _face_ him, right? Hopefully not – at least not till you’ve figured what to do to _fix_ this, until you’re back in your body, too.

The secretary whoever-she-is hangs up the phone. “Well, you can go ahead and go in there now.” She points at the door in the far corner of the office lobby. “Its’ just down that hall, fourth door to the left after the first turn to the right.”

“Yeah, thanks.” You do wonder a bit why your brother hasn’t managed to get ahold of one of his thingies when it’s looking like it’s about to real easy for you, though. You get at least one weird look from somebody pushing a cart full of papers as you follow the directions down the hall. Just before pushing open the door you were told – one that has a plate mounted on it reading ‘ _Andrew Sweetwater: Department Head_ ’ – you take a deep breath and straighten your shirt out a little bit.

Maybe it just needed the touch of someone with a bit a _maturity_ , perhaps? That could be the explanation, right? In which case, you’ve definitely got this all covered.

You push open the door and step inside. There’s a middle-aged man sitting at the desk inside the room, who looks up at you and raises his eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little young to be after the acquiring of municipal assets?”

You definitely do not got this all covered.

“What’re you talking about?” you ask, trying to sound as confident as you can. “I’m old enough – I’m old enough to do whatever I want.” Well, maybe not what _ever_ you want, but you’re almost there, at any rate. “I have a driver’s permit!” You’re not sure why you included that part – but it _is_ an impressive feat, even if Mom’s never let you actually drive anything since the day you … somehow managed to get the car to fly off that drawbridge like that. If only she’d just opened her eyes for one second, too – then she’d have busted Phineas and Ferb, right then and there. But no… couldn’t do that, and she’s not even afraid of heights like you are.

“You have a driver’s permit?” the man asks, raising an eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I do so!” you snap, reaching down for your pocket and feeling – oh, no, feeling nothing, because you didn’t think to bring your permit with you (honestly you forget to bring it with you a lot of times; you’re not in the habit of taking it places) but also because you’re digging through _Phineas’_ shorts’ pockets – you’re in Phineas’ body. “I just, uh, I don’t have it… you know, right _now_ , I just – it’s at home somewhere? Here, why don’t you ask me some – some driving questions or something. I’ll betcha I get ‘em all right.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem inclined to do that, because you’re not sure you could actually back up the boast. (Unless he wanted to know about parallel parking, because _that_ you can do.) Less thankfully, though, he frowns, knitting his eyebrows together. “Right. Look, kid, quit wasting my time, will you? I’ve got a lot of stuff to do, and frankly I doubt that whatever you’re wanting is gonna be very… beneficial to the operation of this district, you know?”

“Wh – wh – how can you say that?” you demand. “I’m – I’m Phineas Flynn! You know that, right? I’m the person who does whatever I wanna do – I’ve been to outer space! Multiple times! And I did a tower that went all the way to the moon – and – and a big, creepy looking computer that could tell me how many fingers I was holding up behind my back! I’m not just _anybody_ , you know!” Darnit, how _does_ your brother manage to get people to just… bend to his will like he does? Nobody ever challenges _him_ on his age, and yet as soon as you try to do something, it’s suddenly a big deal for some reason.

“Right.” The man is being sarcastic and you can tell, and it’s driving you nuts. “Gonna be honest, kid, you seem a little young to be doing all those things – to walk in here and just demand I hand over city property.”

“Wh- city property?” you splutter, having about had it up to your head. “Why are these things such a pain to get anyway? Where do you get them from, anyway? ‘cause I swear I’ll march up there and get one of my own – you just watch me.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he replies infuriatingly. “I’m pretty sure the Metalworks Factory downtown doesn’t take orders from children. Well, there’s apparently these two kids, but… good luck with that.”

“‘these two kids’? You echo. “That’s – those’re my brothers – me and my brothers – brother! Phineas and Ferb! Oh, come on, surely you’ve heard of them! Us! Whatever!"

“Oh, I’ve heard of them, certainly.” He shrugs. “But it’s a big city out there, and the chances that two kids have the same name is probably pretty good. Besides, those two kids have a reputation in the industry, you know? And it’s not a reputation you seem to care very much about maintaining.”

“Oh, yeah?” You put your hands on your hips. “And what reputation would _that_ be, hmm?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure – I’ve heard the stories, though. They’re apparently very friendly. Friendly,  and quite… for their age, quite mature.”

“Mature?!” you very nearly screech. (You’re not sure how you managed to _not_ screech it – you certainly want to do so in this guy’s smug, know-it-all face.) “I _am_ mature! What are you – you have no idea what you’re talking about, I swear! I am fifteen-” no, no, you’re in your brother’s body, remember “-twelve years old-” ugh, it feels so _wrong_ to say that again “-and I know what I’m talking about! You want immaturity? Do you? Just look at Phineas and Ferb, yeah? With their stupid inventions and their – their -” well, you don’t have much else to finish the sentence with – but the first reason is still more than enough to suffice, really “-and their stupid contraptions and everything _else_ I have to put up with! Ugh!” You end the rant by stomping your foot against the floor, hoping for _some_ kind of reaction.

There’s none.

Exasperated, irritated, frustrated beyond all belief, you turn straight back around and storm out of the office, down the hallway, through the lobby, and back out onto the street.

The _nerve_ of some people!

Calling your _brothers_ mature – and in the same breath, saying that you’re not! What did they ever do to earn that title – that you haven’t already done? Of course you’re mature – more so then them, too – you’re seriously older by three whole entire years. It doesn’t get much more open-and-shut than that, does it?

Especially not when they’re constantly building those dumb projects all the time – how can _that_ be mature, and not you? You just want to bust them for that, to see them ground… well, that’s… maybe not _quite_ what you want, either.

Vindication, though. Vindication you definitely need, and want, even if the idea of getting your brothers _grounded_ , per se, has… kind of become a little tainted to you now, forever spoiled by the image of the look in your brother’s eyes as you lied about him and got him sent off to your room. But you can still get _vindication_ without having to do that necessarily, right?

You’re not sure anymore whether you’d actually want him grounded for their contraptions. It’s… it’s kind of unsettling, because it’s been such a part of your motivation for so long that to just up and abandon it altogether seems plain _wrong_ , but after last night? You’d been expecting bad, well, you’d been expecting some sort of reaction, obviously, and you hadn’t expected to be a _good_ one, but it you hadn’t been expecting _that_ , either.

And though part of you still stoutly believes that he does deserve it, after everything he’s done – and not even just _to you_ , but in general too?

… still, the idea just won’t rest easily anymore, and it’s really, really kind of disconcerting by this point.

What’s happened to you? You’re Candace Flynn, that’s who – you’re _supposed_ to want them in trouble, that’s kind of part of what ‘busting’ means, isn’t it? They _need_ comeuppance for that stuff, but you… your conscience is all up in arms at the idea of doing what you did last night to your brother for a second time, and it refuses to be settled no matter how much you know that they’d actually deserve it – which _obviously_ makes it very different from what you did yesterday.

Yesterday? Admittedly, not deserved. That was – that was on you. But you apologized, didn’t you? You  kissed and made up, as the saying goes, so all should be right in the world again.

The trouble you’re positive they’d get into with Mom if you managed to bust them, like, actually successfully managed to really and truly bust them? It’d be different. It would – it’d be _deserved_ , on them, not on you. All should be the right in the world.

All is not right in the world – all is not right, and you don’t know why.

At least the fact that you’re in the busier, downtown part of Danville with traffic and pedestrians and… giant robots, why not ("Hi, I'm Normal!" you think it says, and you don't know who it thinks it's fooling) – all around keep anyone else from recognizing you as your brother as you walk. Not that you’re sure where you’re going anyway – at least not until look up, and blink, recognizing the brightly-painted purple facade of the Googolplex towering up in front of you.

You never realized the mall was so close to the city’s sewer maintenance offices before – but it was never important before, either. As you stand there, though, a thought enters your head. Jeremy might be in there, right? He normally is – sometimes at the Slushy Burger downtown, but sometimes here, and honestly you never bothered to try and working out his schedule. It just seems so confusing, and you’re not going to complain no matter _what_ it is, except maybe to suggest that maybe he’s working too many hours (and during summer vacation, of all times), but you dare not upset him, either.

Just as you’re debating the idea, though (because, really, what would you say to him anyway? Apologize even more? Well, that’s always good, and you’ll have to do it at some point, but you’d rather be back in your body when you do it), your phone – Phineas’ phone, even – buzzes in your pocket, and you excitedly dig it out.

It’s Ferb, as you could have guessed, and you’ve never been happier to hear… well, hear nothing, as he says nothing, even on the phone. And you demand to know whether he’s done with the switching machine, to which he finally speaks.

“Yes.”

And then, you’re happy indeed, leaving the Googolplex behind instantly, striking out for home, the prospect of getting back into your own body at once enough to make you forget about whatever it was you were thinking about before.

There is one thing, though – the whole reason you came out downtown in the first place this morning – that you haven’t actually managed to accomplish. Mainly because that stupid guy in the Sewer System office having no idea what he was talking about. Calling _you_ immature, of all things.

You’ll show him, though – you’ll get one of those tuners yet, and you’re not gonna let anyone stop you.

If you actually _need_ to get one, that is, because there a chance you won’t actually need to, either. You’ve never taken the two miles between downtown and home quite so quickly, you don’t think, even compared to the times you’ve run the same distance while dragging Mom behind you.

It does somehow seem like a longer distance, though, and your legs and sides and lungs are already burning before you’ve so much as reached the little food mart on the corner of the street. It’s not just a mild thing, either, but _man_ , it is _bad_. Does your brother _ever_ exercise, for crying out loud?

You know you’re probably… a little more active than most people are, but _that_ much more active? You hadn’t really thought so before now. Perhaps you should ask somebody else – somebody closer to your own age, because though it sometimes doesn’t seem so, Phineas _is_ only twelve years old – at some point. Stacy, maybe? How far can _she_ run before getting tired?

You’ve covered the entire distance between the Googolplex and home without stopping once before – multiple times, even, and it wasn’t _that_ hard.

None of that really matters right now anyway – as you finally, _finally_ make it home, pushing the open the fence gate into the backyard and straight-up collapsing into the grass because your legs are shaking so badly from the exertion. You try breathing deeply, but the only ones you can manage to draw for the first while are raggedy and shallow, and you just lie in the heap on the ground, sweating profusely and wishing that someone would just pick you up bodily and chuck you into a pool filled with ice water.

“ey’ Dinner Bell – what’s wrong wit’ you?” you hear Buford’s gravelly voice. “Didja run all the way from southern New Zealand ‘r somethin’?”

“Buford, you do realize that the country of New Zealand is separated from us by many thousands of miles of ocean?” Now it’s Baljeet, bickering back as the two of them always do. “She could certainly not cover that on foot.” The one thing you do perk up at is ‘she’, though – so Ferb or somebody spilled the secret.

Whatever. You don’t honestly care about whatever your brothers’ dorky friends think about you – their opinion never mattered anyway.

“Meh. Could if she ran fast enough,” Buford shoots back, sounding smug, and Baljeet sighs longsufferingly. “’sides, you want a wedgie for contradicting me or no?”

By this point you’ve managed to pull yourself to your feet again. “I’m ready, I guess.” Your legs still feel a bit rubbery, but it’s better now. “Let’s – let’s get this over with.”

Ferb nods, and Isabella seems extra relieved for some reason – and she’s not even had to deal with anything except a mild annoyance to her little crush. “Good,” she says. “I hope this works – I was hoping to take Phineas to the new Stumbleberry Finkbat movie that I got tickets for this morning and… well, I can’t exactly do that _now_ , can I?” She’s looking directly at you, like it’s somehow your fault that all this happened – you’re just about to snap off the retort that the stuck-up girl deserves when you realize that she’s… well, that’s she right, more or less.

It _is_ your fault that Phineas got grounded, at least, whether or not that was the way the girl intended it.

Averting your eyes, you mumble out an indistinct answer of some kind, before looking over at Ferb alone. “So… how’s this going to work? Where’s the big machine, even?”

Ferb blinks.

“Allow me to explain it for you,” Baljeet’s voice suddenly pipes up from the side, almost startling you. “Ferb and I perfected the plans you originated yesterday – they accidentally used the quadratic root of Euler’s constant where an imaginary number differential was needed, you see-” he stops and laughs for a moment, as if it’s just the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Get goin’, nerd!” Buford remarks.

“-of course.” Baljeet clears his throat. “Well, you see, by diminutizing the electromagnetic impulses-”

“Will ya cut the nerd speak? Not everybody cares, you know?” Buford crosses his arms, but for once you find yourself agreeing with him anyway.  
  
Baljeet frowns. “Little power; little loss of efficacy; littler physical coils necessitated. Is that _simple_ enough for you?”

“Ya gotta a problem that?"

“… no.”

“Right, then,” you interrupt, not wanting to get delayed yet again by another catfight between the two of them. “Is that so, Ferb?” You hesitate for a moment, remembering the highly unpleasant experience from yesterday and shuddering a little. “It’s going to work this time?”

He steps a bit to the right, revealing a small metal box resting on the grass – no larger than a suitcase, really, covered over with shiny buttons and gauges and at least three mini screens of some sort. “I have full confidence.”

“Great, good, perfect.” You rub your hands together. “Let’s get this over with, then – I’m ready to be my own body again.” Then you pause for a second, looking around behind you. “Wait, where’s Phin- I mean, I know where he is, but-”

“Yeah, that’s the same thing _I’ve_ been asking,” Isabella butts in, looking suspiciously at Ferb this time. “Why does Phineas suddenly decide he’s not leaving Candace’s room, and why does no want to tell me why, either? I mean, come on, it’s not like he’s _sick_ or anything, I know that much.”

You blink in mild surprise – if Isabella doesn’t know why Phineas is staying inside, well, that would mean that Ferb didn’t tell her. Didn’t tell her that he’s grounded – grounded because of you, because you’re pretty sure that _Isabella_ , of all people, would be the last to believe that Phineas could ever potentially do any wrong. Which is… well, you’re not _ungrateful_ for it, you suppose, but you certainly hadn’t considered the possibility he might do such a thing, either.

Ferb says nothing, instead producing two helmet-looking-things from behind his back. “This will permit us the ability to perform remote swaps.”

Ah, okay – it’s one of those things, then. You catch the one he tosses you, and after examining it a bit, decide that it doesn’t look like it needs to be put on a specific way, and plant it firmly on the top of your head without any further ado.

Ferb reaches down and picks up some random little rock from somewhere, proceeding to throw it neatly through the air and directly against your bedroom’s window. A moment later, it opens, and Phineas pokes his head out.

He looks… paler than usual.

Which is to say, of course, that your body looks paler than usual, and maybe you’re just imagining it because upon blinking and getting a second glance, you’re not so sure of it anymore, but there’s still something distinctly… different about his smile, something that you can see even through the fact that it’s your face, and thus technically your smile too.

“Oh, hey, guys,” he says, waving. “Candace. I – I didn’t know you’d gotten back already.”

Suddenly you feel heat creeping up into your cheeks, and you don’t know why – but the grass has suddenly become one of the most interesting views you’ve ever seen. “Yeah – yeah. I… I didn’t get the thing, though.”

“Oh.” He grins. “Oh, well – looks like we won’t need it anyway.” Then his smile falters for a moment. “Though when we switch, you’re gonna be… you know?”

You take a deep breath. It _is_ going to suck, and you frankly have no idea what you’re going to do with yourself or with Jeremy or how you’re going to keep your life from falling apart in general. Even so, though, despite that all that… well, you just _really_ want to get back to your own body. Get to shower and feel clean again? Yes, please. Dealing with all the rest of that will… just have to come later. Ten days later. “I know.”

“Well, okay, then, I guess.” He smiles again, giving a thumbs-up to Ferb. “Toss it up here, then, and we’ll be good to go!”

Ferb throws the helmet up perfectly, and Phineas catches it perfectly – but you expect no less from them anyway. Phineas brushes his hair carelessly out of the way and neatly fastens the straps underneath his chin.

“Hmm. Tingly.”

It is tingly, you agree – that sensation that lingers in the air before the lightning comes, the feeling that if you were to touch a metal doorknob right about now you’d get the shock of your life. It is… not altogether an unpleasant feeling, though – something that you’re thankful for, considering reliving the experience of yesterday is not very high up on your bucket list, to say the absolute least.

“I’m ready to go when you are, Candace,” he says.

You nod. “I’m ready.”

“Good. Let’s get this over with,” Isabella mutters. “Those tickets were expensive.”

“Excellent!” Baljeet exclaims. “Thanks to my improved formulas, this process should be one hundred percent painless sixty percent of the time.” Before you have a chance to speak up and ask what in the _heck_ he means by that, though, he’s standing next to that suitcase-sized box and hitting buttons on it, and suddenly you can’t breathe.

It’s not suffocating, though, because you don’t _need_ to breathe, either, but even so you’re distinctly aware there is no air going either in or out of your body. The tingling is stronger, too, like pins and needles, all over your body – more intense than you’ve ever felt from any of your limbs falling asleep, but… bearable. Not overwhelming, and almost… it’s making you feel like you have to sneeze.

“Ah… ah… ah…”

You sneeze, violently.

You open your eyes. Though there’s no pain, still a sense of wrongness is stuck in your brain and won’t let go. When you try to lift yourself up, some sort of long, orange-y hair falls into your face, and you realize that you’re lying face-down on some sort of… carpet? It’s pink – a nice shade, but there’s something wrong, too.

“Where – where am I?” you ask aloud. The voice the words come out in was not the voice you were expecting to hear. Not that you’re sure what you _were_ expecting to hear, exactly, but it was not  _that_. You’ve never heard that voice before.

“Hello?” you say, and nearly jump again at how unknown you’ve suddenly become. Whose voice _is_ that? You don’t know. Which voice were you expecting from yourself? You don’t know. Who are _you_?

You – you don’t actually know.

You don’t know and it’s kind of freaking you out. You’re standing up now, looking down at yourself, and there’s some sort of red shirt you’re wearing that you’ve never seen before – you’ve never see any of this before – this – this strange room you’re in all the sudden but trying to think about _where_ you might be or _how_ you get here only hurts your head because try as you might, there’s just… there’s nothing there!

“Hello?” you call again.

There’s footsteps, but they aren’t yours. Footsteps running quickly, and then a door that you never noticed was there before opens and someone you’ve never seen before bursts inside. It’s a kid – a little kid with black hair, a boy, followed by a girl with similarly dark hair and another boy whose hair is a really bright shade of green.

“Who – who are you?” you exclaim, staggering backwards. “Where am I? Wh – what’s going on?”

“I do not understand!” the black-haired boy exclaims. “There were no signs of interference, and yet the transfer was unable to complete successfully.” He pauses, looking back at the other two children.

“Interference?” you stammer desperately, terrified of how little you know and madly hoping for someone to explain to you what’s going on. “Transfer? Please, I – I don’t know you-”

“I’m quite sorry,” the green-haired boy speaks. You’re just about ready to break down in tears at this point, but then something about his voice makes you look up abruptly. There’s something – _something_ oddly familiar about it, but it lies just beyond your comprehension, no matter how hard you try to grasp it. “We are going to have to reverse our attempts at transfer.”

He stops talking, and he can’t stop talking, you don’t want him to stop talking, his voice is the only thing that you recognize and to have it stop now is like losing the one thing keeping you afloat in the ocean of the unknown you’re suddenly in. “Un – undo?” you ask, tripping over the words, your voice quaking. “Undo what?”

“Undo _this_ ,” the black-haired one remarks, turning around and revealing some sort of large, metal box that he’d apparently dragged behind him. Before you can ask him what it is, though, he touches something on it, and you suddenly…

… it’s not like you don’t _care_ to know, but it’s suddenly not so pressing. Nothing’s so pressing – the whole world is growing distant and faint, like you’re falling down a long, long tunnel and you blink and-

-and you’re suddenly lying flat on your back in the grass again, out in the yard, staring up into the sky.

“Ya back, nerd?” Buford’s voice asks from somewhere, and you push yourself to a sitting position and groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What – what happened?” And where did Ferb and Isabella and Baljeet go, anyway? Or the new, littler switching machine?

“Heck if I know,” Buford replies as you look at him inquisitively. “I’s just standin’ here an’ Dinner Bell starts acting up like he’d never seen anybody before. T’ain’t right, that’s for sure.”

Wait, the machine didn’t work? You… you probably should have seen it coming, shouldn’t you?

The sliding glass door opens as you heave a heavy sigh, and Baljeet, Ferb and Isabella troop out in that order, with Isabella particularly looking not very upbeat. You can’t blame her, honestly. There’s no lingering headache this time, but that doesn’t really matter, does it?

You’re still in Phineas’ body, and _that_ was the important part and _that_ – that is the part that hasn’t changed at all.


	10. Eventide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies on the slowing of my updating schedule! There's lot of stuff going on right now, and I'm working on some other projects as well :D Don't worry, this story is certainly not going on hiatus or no longer being worked on, but it may drop to a bi-weekly updating or similar as I begin multitasking more things at once. 
> 
> Enough rambling, though, onto the long-overdue update!

You try to listen patiently and understand as much as you can from when Baljeet ‘explains’ what happened – what went wrong. ‘Try’ indeed being the key word, because despite your best efforts, the vast majority of it goes straight over your head. Phineas, of course, would understand it, but that’s nothing new.

What do you get, though, is the important part – it’s enough. That for whatever sciencey reason Baljeet and Ferb and whoever else have, the machine didn’t work, and they haven’t been able to figure out why.

Which is honestly just such great news.

Isabella doesn’t look too pleased to hear it either, and eventually ends up agreeing to take Ferb to the theater with her – to see that new Stumbleberry Finkbat movie that came out last week or whenever it was – though she doesn’t look entirely pleased at having her plans so disrupted.

“I was _so_ determined to finally start insisting on spending time alone with him,” you’re almost positive you hear her mutter under her breath.

But you don’t really care about the girl or whatever she’s griping about this time – and maybe it’s just ‘cause she’s upset that she can’t flirt with your brother or whatever, but it sure does seem like she does it a lot, at least more than you really noticed before.

Instead, you grab Ferb and drag him aside. “What happened? Is Phineas okay?” And of course, the most important question of all. “What now?”

To which he looks stolidly at you for a moment. “I don’t know. And yes. His symptoms seemed to be perfectly equivalent to yours.”

“You – you don’t know?” Well, you’d figured as much, based on what little you were able to interpret from Baljeet’s explanation, but to there it was… sort of disguised behind a tidal wave of words fifty letters long that you have no idea what they mean – words like ‘pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis’, whatever that’s supposed to be. Hearing Ferb just say it like that, though, it’s… it’s a different thing altogether. He’s Ferb, after all. Part of the dynamic, unstoppable duo that your brothers are – hindered not really even a little bit by the all the laws of science and seemingly invariable rules of reality.

They’re your brothers – they don’t _not know_ things, right?

And yet…

“You don’t know,” you repeat dully. “So what, that’s it, then? There’s nothing you can do?”

He blinks, something which doesn’t exactly fill you with an overwhelming amount of hope. You can’t believe – don’t _want_ to believe it. They can’t not know, right? That’s – that’s – of all the things you’ve considered, the awful consequences you’re going to have to deal with upon getting to your own body again – the mess with Jeremy, with getting yourself in trouble, with everything else – you still never really considered _this_.

That they would just… not know? It’s… it’s not something you’d ever really deemed to a real risk. This doesn’t happen, not to you. Even with your luck, everything goes back to normal before too long – it always does. That’s just – that’s just how it works. It was how it worked on the day you got turned into a giant, at least. Obviously, as you’re clearly not a giant now – or your brother isn’t, at the very least.

Ferb stares at you for a while, and for once you really just can’t think of anything to say either. Then he clears his throat. “This doesn’t constitute giving up, you know.”

“I – I know,” you reply, and you do, technically, but even so – the idea that your brother, that Ferb just stood in front of you after two failures spread over two days, and admitted to your face that he doesn’t know something? It’s… there’s something about it that unsettles you down to your very core.

You don’t stay out in the yard long after that. There’s nothing out there for you anyway, and it’s just awkward. You don’t really feel like you belong out there, and Isabella keeps looking at you weirdly and Buford and Baljeet, well, they just ignore you entirely. Ferb tries, maybe, but you don’t really notice a difference.

In a sense it’s an open invitation to return – to your normal life, the things you usually do while your brothers and their friends are out in the yard being their immature selves. But it’s invitation that is, at the same time, anything _but_ normal. You’re in your brother’s body, after all. You’ve literally _become_ him, in more ways than one – in all the ways, really. And as long _that_ is true, can you really go back to normal?

Jeremy won’t date you like this. You can’t bust your brothers like this, not really. And if you can’t do either of _those_ things… well, who are you at all? Who is Candace Flynn?

Maybe it’s silly, you don’t know. But it doesn’t change the fact that you very much feel that way even so, as you abandon the yard for the house.

Long-established habit steers you up the stairs to your own room, and you’re halfway across your bedroom floor before Phineas looks up from where he’s sprawled out on the bed.

“Oh, hey, Candace. How’re you?”

“I… am fine,” you say dully. “Sorry. I forgot you were in here.”

He looks down for just a moment before smiling at you. “I can get why. It’s… well, I’m just catching up on some reading. Remember that twenty-eight volume novel Ferb and I wrote for you earlier this summer when you got sick?” You nod. “Yeah, that one. It’s… well, I remember most of it, but it’s all good.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize automatically, though you’d admit that you didn’t put very much heart into it. You almost can’t – your thoughts are far and away distracted.

Phineas closes the book he’s holding and sits up straight on the bed. “I certainly don’t mind if you wanna stay in here, though. It’s – it’s been a long afternoon, you know? Mom said I needed to learn to ‘get along with you’ better, which I honestly didn’t understand because I thought we got along fine? But she did say that it was okay if you spent time in here with me because of that, though, as long as we didn’t fight. Which we never do anyway, so I guess it’s just a straight-up plus?”

“Sure,” you reply. And then, on impulse, you repeat the question you gave Ferb just minutes ago. “Do you know how you’re going to fix us? Did Ferb tell you what he said? Is that – does it – what’re we supposed to do now?”

He blinks, staring at you for a moment. “Well, there are some other things we can try doing. We didn’t try them _first_ because it’s a lot less likely that they’ll actually work – but it might still be worth testing the simultaneous teleportation thing again, and there’s even a chance that we could do with some sort of matter-state-changer to convert our bodies to a different state of matter and let them mix, and then separate them after the fact.

“A lot less likely?” You repeat the only part of the paragraph that sounded even remotely important to your ears. “And when you say ‘a lot less’, how _much_ less does that mean, exactly?”

“Well, it’s why neither of those were our first choice to begin with,” he replies. “It’s… it’s impossible to calculate the exact probability for these things but the deck is kinda stacked against us. I wouldn’t count heavily on any of them, is what I mean.”

“Right,” you say, though you almost can’t even hear yourself say it. “Wouldn’t count heavily… that’s…” you hesitate for a moment, still struggling to find some sort of way to express your thoughts – to Phineas, to yourself, it’s all the same right now. “Phineas, we can’t _stay_ like! I can’t _stay_ – stay as _you_ forever?” Suddenly, this is all seeming very reminiscent of the day of the Mid-Summer’s Festival, what with you abruptly growing into a giant and all. Of course, though you’d despairingly thought _then_ that there was nothing to be done, you’d still shrunk back at the end of the day… somehow.

The only problem with that is that ‘the end of the day’ was last night now, and you’re still very much in your brother’s body now, with no sign of… of getting back. None at all, at least according to your brothers themselves, and they are like the ultimate authorities on this, after all.

“It’s nothing to worry about, of course,” Phineas says, voice still upbeat. “It’s pretty obvious that we’re just missing something – probably not a very _big_ thing, even, ‘cause the new machine model did manage to switch our minds back, just, you know, without our memories.”

“Yes, well, _memories_ would be an important factor,” you reply snarkily, certainly more snarky than you’re really feeling right about now. “We can’t do very much without them, you know.”

“Of course not, no,” he replies. “But being close is better than nothing: it gives us a strong base on which to start trying to figure this whole puzzle out.”

He still sounds so cheerful about it all that you don’t know whether you should laugh or cry or perhaps both, succumbing to a full-on mental breakdown of some kind on the floor of your own bedroom. “Phineas, this isn’t some kind of game!” you finally settle on, trying your hardest to keep your voice, and dramatically failing to do so. “This is _literally_ our lives – my life – on the line here! You don’t want to be _me_ forever! You can’t be me – I’m me, no matter how much better at you are than me. And I have to get _back_ to being me, too, I got Jeremy to deal with, somehow, and I’ve gotta bust you and I’ve gotta… I gotta – well, I have other stuff, too – big stuff!”

He smiles. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Nothing’s ever been too complicated to figure out yet, has it?” The consolation is a very weak one, and he seems to realize that a moment or two after he says it. “And besides, didn’t you have your idea on how to fix it anyway? How’d that go?”

Oh, yeah, that. You’d kinda forgotten about it, to be quite honest – you never really thought it had a very good shot anyway, and especially not as compared to your brother’s plans. You’re not proud of it, but there’s no bothering trying to hide the fact that you largely went along with it just so you could seem like you had a real alternative to waiting around helplessly for your baby brothers to fix things, like you always have to do.

You _weren’t_ counting on that stupid idea cooked up by Stacy with the help of her stupid movies actually being your last resort, or anything even remotely related to the sort. And even if it was a better idea than it actually is, it’s not like you didn’t mess it up anyway.

“Yeah, I, uh, didn’t get your thing,” you reply, a little embarrassed but mostly just frustrated. “Sorry. I did try, but there was this guy down there at the sewer place, and we had… uh, some issues.”

“That’s alright,” he replies. “It’s not that big a deal. There’s always tomorrow, right?”

You grunt, because there shouldn’t _be_ a tomorrow – not when tomorrow means another day in your brother’s body – but it looks like there’s going to be one whether you like it or not. You don’t like it – you hate it more passionately than anything else you can imagine (and you haven’t been able to really properly try and bust the boys since, like, the day before yesterday and that’s a whole other thing) – but you don’t have much of a choice, either.

Don’t have _any_ choice, really.

Sighing, you slump down to the floor. “I guess.” You feel too dirty to get up on your bed right now anyway, and that’d be if Phineas _wasn’t_ up there – you don’t want him to see you hugging your stuffed animals (again) because, yes, you’re six, that’s apparently a thing. There’s a your _toy unicorn_ up on the shelves above your bed from when you actually _were_ six, probably – that right there probably ought to be the first thing to go, if you were really going to get rid of anything.

You know it’s not going to happen, though. You just… can’t bring yourself to do it.

For a little while you talk to Phineas, after everyone else leaves – Ferb and Isabella to the movie (the latter still looking a bit grouchy even though she gets to be the one inside her own skin) and Buford and Baljeet off to… wherever, really. You don’t know where they go afternoons, and you don’t really care, either.

You stay longer with Phineas than you probably would have under normal circumstances, mostly because you feel so bad about the idea of leaving him there when it’s pretty obvious (even to you, though that isn’t saying much considering just _how_ obvious it is) that he hates it. He tells you about the books he’s reading, and the books he’s finished, and then you find out that he apparently found the container under your bed where you stuff the fanfiction you write, which is embarrassing as all get-out, especially when he mentions it in the same breath as his and Ferb’s, like, literal twenty-eight volume novel of perfection and now here’s _your_ crap because that’s a fair comparison. You didn’t even read their thing and you already know how badly yours is written in comparison.

You’d almost rather him have read a diary of some sort – if you kept a diary, which you don’t, but now you can’t help but think that maybe you should.

Eventually you have to leave, though, partly because it honestly _is_ boring to stay in there for so long (which only makes you feel worse for the knowing it, because your brother _can’t_ actually just leave like you can) and partly because Mom looks in, and, after congratulating the two of you on getting along so well, says ‘and you, young man, need to clean up before I see you at the dinner table’, and you know full well what she means by that – and you probably do stink by now anyway – and because you are getting hungry, you apologize to Phineas again and eventually leave the room.

‘The room’ like it’s not your room. Eventually leave your room.

Showering is… showering, and at a certain point all you can really do is squeeze your eyes shut tight and pretend as hard you can that everything’s normal, that it’s just you, and most certainly _not_ anyone else – most of all not your brother.

As long as you don’t think about it, nothing can happen, right?

It does feel good to be clean again, even though part of you also feels like you’re never going to be the same.

Ferb’s back from the movies by the time you’re out of the bathroom, and though he doesn’t say anything to you directly, he still stares at you as if he’s going to ask you something. (At least it’s not so _judgmental_ this time – or at least you can’t tell if it’s intended to be, which is just as good, honestly.)

Eventually he does speak up, though. “You’ll have to give Phineas and I some time to work out a solution to this. Apparently our earlier theorems were flawed. There will need to be some… kind of rework done.”

“A rework,” you say. “Right. Well, whatever. When should I expect that done? By the time I’m forty? Fifty? Or is it just gonna be one of those, you know, posthumous things? ‘Cause that’s – that’s fine, yeah, I don’t have an issue with that.”

He’s pretty evidently unimpressed by your sarcasm, but doesn’t answer anything, and eventually you groan and roll your eyes.

“Ugh, my gosh. I should’ve just gotten that stupid whatchamacallit tool from the sewer place. I swear it would’ve been better than having to do _nothing_. I can’t _stand this_. Always waiting. Always having to be saved. I swear, I can lift five hundred pounds over my head and beat an alligator in a fistfight and yet it’s like I’m two years old. Phineas! Ferb! Save me! Save me!” You scowl, dropping the sing-songy tone. “This is the crap I hate. It’s _not fair_.”

Ferb’s only response is to point off somewhere into the distance (as if you’re supposed to know what that means) and say nothing. You, on the other hand, have had entirely enough of him and his muteness when you’d _really_ appreciate a verbal answer, so you roll your eyes again and stalk off downstairs. You can wait for dinner to be ready just as well down there as anywhere else.

If only that dumb guy at the sewer place hadn’t been so ridiculous and uptight – if you’d gotten ahold of that thingamajig. At least then you could’ve felt like you made an effort of some kind. Whether or not it would actually do anything is almost beside the point – you would at least just not feel like a total useless clod.

Plus maybe you’d feel a bit less bad about trapping Phineas in your room for the next ten days. You… you probably ought to try and talk to Mom and Dad about that again, really, if you can get them to listen to you on it. Maybe you could even try telling _them_ what actually happened, but… honestly you doubt that’d work out very well. The Mysterious Force, and all that – you suppose it’s perhaps _possible_ that the Force could straight-up put you and Phineas back in your right bodies as a way to keep them from finding out about it (because you know it would do _something_ ) but to be quite honest you really don’t trust it to not just hurt you in some way instead.

Or humiliate you (and probably publicly, somehow). Or just both, and call it day. You’ve seen it all before.

Still, though, it does make you mad that guy thought he could call you – _you –_ of all people, immature _when compared to your brothers_. It’s – it’ so wrong that it almost bothers you, because when Phineas and Ferb are involved, it shouldn’t matter _how_ many plastic unicorn toys you have in your room – you’re the older one, and clearly the more mature one, too. Really, it should be obvious.

The next hour before dinner you spend sitting idly on the couch and coming up with a thousand grand plans – to switch bodies, to bust your brothers, to get Jeremy back. In the end, though, you _do_ absolutely nothing (as usual) beyond text Stacy and get frustrated when she doesn’t answer. She’s probably eating dinner with _her_ family, if you had to guess, but you get frustrated anyway.

And then it’s dinner time, and for the second time in the day you’re forced to sit in your brother’s spot at the table and put on as good of an act of being him as you can. It’s honestly not _that_ hard, so long as you keep your face buried in your food. Mom does look at you strangely for that, and Dad cracks a joke or two about how you ‘must be hungry’, to which you smile and nod and continue stuffing food in your mouth as quickly as you can.

Dinner is over, and it couldn’t have come quickly enough for you, either. At the same time, though, you didn’t _want_ it to be actually over because that means you’ve now gotta find something to do for the rest of the evening, and then you gotta go to bed. And going to bed means you gotta wake up tomorrow – and you’re going to have to wake up in your brother’s body, just like the past two days, and you don’t need to do something thrice to figure out that you _really_ don’t like it.

The only other thing that keeps bothering you is the thing with the guy at the sewer place, but you determinedly shove it out of your head as best you can anyway. You’re gonna get ahold of one of those things – one of those ‘left-handed flange tuners,’ according to the note you left yourself on Phineas’ phone (seriously, why do you have such a hard time remembering that? it’s like four words) and no stuffy old man is going to be able to stop you, either.

It still bothers you, though, to the point that when Mom comes up to you while you’re sitting on the couch at some point after dinner and asks if you’re feeling alright, you can’t help blurt out what’s been running through your mind for the last, what, easy hour or so?

Which isn’t much beyond being stupid but you can’t help it anyway. “Mom, do you think I’m… mature? I am, right?”

She does a double-take, and then laughs for a moment. “Well, what brings on _this_ question, exactly?” She raises one eyebrow good-humoredly. “Is there something I ought to know about? Maybe between you and a certain girl from across the street, hmm?”

“Ew, no, Mom, stop!” You can’t help the grimace that comes over your face at the thought of _Isabella_ in that way. “That’s disgusting.” Seriously, you _have_ a boyfriend – or hopefully still do – but _Isabella_ , the dorky girl with the crush on your brother? Just… blegh. A shiver runs up your spine at the idea alone.

Mom winks. “Of course it is, honey.”

“Okay, Mom, please, can you just stop? I don’t – I don’t even know why I asked. It was a stupid question, really.” You stand up and go to walk away – not that you even know where or have somewhere in particular to go – but she reaches out and puts her hand on your shoulder.

“I’m just teasing, Phineas. It’s just… well, I’m a little surprised to hear _you_ asking about this sort of thing, you know?”

“Yeah, sure,” you grouse. Somewhere in the back of your mind you do dimly realize – perhaps a bit too late – what she’s talking about and why she finds your question so unusual in the first place. Then again, it’s not _your_ fault that you responded on instinct either. It’s just… well, what where you supposed to say? You may be in your brother’s body, but you’re still _you_ , and _you_ certainly have no interest in the little girl across the street, that’s for _absolute_ sure. “Thanks anyway.”

“Seriously, though, Phineas,” Mom says. “Whatever reason you’re asking for, I think it’s probably safe for me to put your mind at a bit of ease about it.” She smiles. “Don’t go getting a big head on me about it or anything, but for your age, I’ll at least give you that you’re more mature than I was at twelve. Which probably doesn’t satisfy you that much, but, hon, don’t worry about it. As far as ‘maturity’ goes, I’d say that you don’t have anything to worry about.”

For maybe a split second you can feel yourself getting excited. It’s a… strange thing – something that you don’t feel nearly as often as you wish. So much of your interaction with Mom is just – just her sighing or giving you ‘the look’ as you make another attempt at busting, and although it’s not like you’ve _never_ had these sorts of conversations before as yourself, the discrepancy in the amount of times when she’s giving you the ‘congratulations’ face versus the ‘disappointed’ face is… honestly you wish that there was some way you could help it, really you do.

It’s kind of… well, it might be some of the reason, at least, behind why you kind of feel closer to Dad as a whole, it’s – it’s not anything _against_ Mom, per se, but it… gets exhausting after a while. And you know, you know that technically it’s not her fault the Force does what it does (curse the stupid Force anyway), but you can’t deny even so.

Dad, at least, can see _some_ of the stuff your brothers build – though not enough to get them in trouble – but at least he knows you’re not _insane_ in the way the Force has such an issue with Mom finding out for some reason. And so it’s like… well, if you really need someone to seriously talk with about something equally serious or embarrassing… you’d just rather go to Dad for it. Like a few years back when you started breaking out really bad at the beginning of puberty (though frankly anyone could’ve seen that – it was a _nightmare_ and you’re just glad it’s under control now). 

Maybe it’s silly, then; you don’t know, but it’s the truth – and hearing Mom like _this_ is something you get so… rarely that it makes you feel a little funny in ways you weren’t quite expecting to feel.

Then again, the fact does remain above all, though, that’s she’s talking about – and thinks she’s talking to – not you, but your little brother. It’s not directed at you anymore than if you were in your own body. Which is… a rather disheartening realization, if you’re being honest.

Of course, it does raise an important question, though. If Mom thinks she’s talking to _Phineas_ , then...

“Wait, you think I’m _mature_?” At least you managed to not refer to “yourself” in the third person there.

 Mom blinks. “Well, isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

 "Uh…” you stammer. “Well, I, uh – you see, it’s not like that – I mean, if you think _I_ am, I mean, I’m Phineas! I’m not – not _mature_?” You shake your head. “ _I_ – Candace! Candace is the mature one, right?” Smiling innocently as you can, you wait for an answer. “Right?”

 She doesn’t answer right away. _She doesn’t answer right away_. There was certainly no delay in answering in she was talking about your brother, no, you would’ve heard that. And then she starts talking about you and all the sudden she – she hesitates. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots, and especially not when it’s… so painfully obvious.

 You stand up abruptly. “Never mind. I don’t – it’s not – it’s not important.” You could have guessed, honestly, and maybe you always thought so, but hearing it… just – she can’t _really_ think that, can she? Your _brother_ , and not _you_? How is that even fair? You’re the one who puts in so much effort to keep from being immature, mainly because it’s the only way you can impress Jeremy, and your brothers, they just… kinda drift. Passively through life, like it’s no big deal, not doing anything to not act like little children and they…

 “Are you alright, Phineas?” Mom asks, suddenly sounding concerned. (Because _now_ she’s concerned.) “For these last couple days now you’ve just been acting… I don’t know, a bit off?”

 “No, I said I’m fine,” you repeat. “I’m fine.” She mutters something under her breath as you walk away – something about ‘puberty’ or whatever, you don’t quite catch it all. Nor do you care to listen, not when you’re too busy grappling with the realization that your _mother_ , of all people, is more ready to comment on your _brother’s_ being mature than yours, when you’re more than confident neither of them even know what the word means.

“What does she know anyway,” you grumble to yourself as you climb the stairs. “Probably just another stupid thing from the stupid Force or whatever.” Telling yourself this – trying to believe in it – it helps, a little bit. Maybe. 

You know it isn’t true, though.

This has nothing to do with the Force – you can still remember the things Dad said about you yesterday morning when he thought you weren’t there. All that talk about responsibility and being in charge (which literally like the whole thing with being an adult, isn’t it?) and for some reason they don’t think you are and that’s – it obviously can’t be because you _aren’t_ , right? Like, it – it has to be something else. The Mysterious Force! Maybe? Just the fact that they’re so… well, they’re your parents. It’s not like they know _everything_ about you, after all (the Mysterious Force definitely knocks that theory right out of the gate).

 It’s… it’s all very upsetting. More than it should be, perhaps, considering that you _kiiinda_ suspected as much all along, but at least it was only a _suspicion_ , and you never quite knew for sure, and you could pretend ‘surely not’ to yourself, but you can’t do _that_ anymore, now can you? Nope.

At least this time you manage to maintain the presence of mind to stop yourself from flinging open your own door, instead remembering to head down the hall to your brother’s room, where you throw yourself down across Phineas’ bed in disgust, huffing angrily to yourself. 

Maybe you just ought to angrily wish that you had your mother’s life or something. It seemed to work last time, after all.

… on second thought, no, no, you don’t want that. Not at all. You’ve had to see enough things over the past two days that you should’ve _never_ had to see, and you do _not_ need that tally rising any higher, and especially not with your _mother_. You’d rather just die at that point, quite frankly.

Ferb eventually comes in at some point later on and starts getting ready for bed. You haul yourself up so that you’re sitting on Phineas’ bed and watch him. Stacy texts you back, too, but it’s only a brief one-word answer and an apology for replying so slowly because of the time. If you had your own phone, maybe you’d feel more inclined to answer at length, but Phineas’ phone is such a pain the rear end to text with that you can’t be bothered to say more than a handful of words yourself.

You’re kind of starting to understand why _Phineas_ doesn’t text that often or in-depth, though, because this tiny keyboard really sucks for that.

There is still one thing that you’d like to get to the bottom of, though. If your brothers are gonna be having so much trouble with the process of switching you back (and of course they would, because why _not_ ) then you don’t want to have to sit around and wait for them. If you’re going to be like this, you _need_ to make an effort, because you’ll literally explode if you don’t. You’ve had quite enough with the whole ‘waiting for help’ shtick – you’re _fifteen years old_ , for goodness’ sake, the older sister – you should be the one doing the saving, not _them_. And yet, well, here you are.

Of course, the only thing you can really do – or try to do and hope it helps in some way – is follow through with Stacy’s advice and hope that _something_ happens – or alternately, wallow in your failure, but at least you’ll have made an _effort_.

Which in turn means…

You narrow your eyebrows. “How do you two do it, Ferb?”

He looks over at you from whatever book it is he’s reading now, not saying anything, but at least he raises an eyebrow – he’s wondering what exactly you’re talking about. Which is fair, because you didn’t go into very much detail, either.

“You’re _kids_ ,” you repeat, emphasizing the word for… well, it needs to emphasized, right? Because they _are_ – they are, and the entire world seems to forget that sometimes, but it’s true. “And yet you just… you just waltz in wherever you want, and do whatever you want, and nobody stops you – I mean, _nobody_? Nobody ever does any of that, and I mean, they _should_!” Of course they should – if it happened to _you_ , why not your brothers? Why not – what makes them so special?

Ferb just stares for a moment, and you can suddenly feel yourself blushing. Looking away, you grind your toes into the carpet and cross your arms in a huff. “Okay, so maybe it’s why I couldn’t get ahold of that thing today. It’s – it’s not such a big deal, you know. It’s just… it’s not  _fair_ , see, ‘cause you guys have your magical trick that lets you always get your guys’ way, no matter what! How is – how is that supposed to be fair at all?!”

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t know what else to say, so an uneasy silence falls over the room as you fall back on the bed. Eventually you stand up again and change in some of Phineas’ pajamas, and then lie back down, but the silence persists.

You’re not _pouting_ , that’s a thing little kids do, and you’re _not_ a kid, despite what everyone and their mother seems to believe sometimes.

 “There’s no ‘trick’,” your brother’s voice suddenly comes, literally when the lights are already out and you’re trying to get to sleep. You roll over and grunt questioningly. Perry chitters at you from Ferb’s bed, and you’re suddenly glad that at least the meat brick isn’t trying to sleep in the same bed with you. (Maybe he’s not as dumb as you thought.)

“It’s all quite… simple,” he continues, which is as surprising as anything else, given… well, that he’s Ferb. “We are only kids, after all. There’s no need to attempt to hide that fact. Simply acknowledge the truth and display that you know what you’re doing. It’s all anyone do, adult or child, and it’s all that needs to be done, even so.”

You blink once or twice, at first confused because you’re pretty sure that’s what you _did_ , actually – only the guy down there at the office wouldn’t take you serious because, well, he must’ve seen your brother’s body and presumed… well, that, no, that doesn’t make too much sense because Phineas is the one who _gets_ his way about things.

And he couldn’t have seen, like, inside your body to know that it _wasn’t_ Phineas, either, so… so what _does_ that mean, exactly?

You’re… not sure. The only thing that was different was that it was you in the driver’s seat, so to speak, and he couldn’t have known that it wasn’t your brother, so it must’ve hinged on something else – on… on what you did, acting as your brother? Or… something like that?

Which, well, in a sense you suppose you knew that (because it’s obvious) but… well, at the same time, you never really thought about it, either. But it was just about what you _did_ , well, that would necessarily mean you did something _wrong_.

And that is not something you like to contemplate the thought of. You’re the older one – you’re _supposed_ to have everything neatly under control. Why is being an older sister so stupidly _hard_? You didn’t ask for any of this, that’s for darn well sure. Yet here you are, not given a choice as usually.

“It’ll be alright, Candace,” Ferb says calmly.

You jerk your head back to look at him, and for a split second want to say something sharp because it sure as heck _better_ be ‘alright’, so help you… but you – you don’t. You don’t really feel like it, for one. Because things like this – that confuse your brothers and persist over the course of all these days – things like this aren’t _supposed_ to be able to happen. They just… aren’t.

Instead you pull your brother’s bedsheets up tightly under your chin. “Thanks.”

He says nothing in return, and you’d frankly expect no less by now. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, trying to pretend that it’s your _own_ bed you’re lying on and… well, to be quite honest, it doesn’t really work all that well. But the silence in the room… less uneasy, somehow.

And who knows – the Mysterious Force kinda just does whatever it wants to nowadays. Maybe everything will even be back to normal in the morning.

Given that the first thing you see next morning when you do open your eyes is the blue ceiling of your brother’s bedroom… well, you never had high hopes for that one anyway. But it was worth a shot, anyway.

Not two moments after you’ve opened your eyes and stretched, and maybe just started to yawn, the alarm clock goes off, too. At first you reach to the wrong side of the bed as you try to hit the snooze, but after you realize your mistake and go for the right side of the bed on your second attempt, you’re still shocked to find out that it’s _seven in the morning_.

Seven in the morning! And you’re awake, but what’s more, you… feel alright. Pretty good, actually, not tired at all, which is definitely not normal for you and waking up at seven in the morning. Seven in the morning is like… that’s like the time your brothers get up which is-

-which is, of course, obvious the second after you think it, especially as you watch Ferb sit up in the bed across from yours and look at you stolidly. Perry chitters, hops down from Ferb’s bed and crosses the floor to yours.

“You’d better not try to get up here,” you say warningly. Which, surprisingly enough, also seems to be enough to convince the animal to shoot you a ponderous glance and remain on the floor. “Yeah. You just… I don’t wanna get all hairy first thing in the morning. Let me at least eat first, or something.”

Speaking of eating, and everything that it implies – the getting up, the getting dressed, the generally getting on with your third day in your brother’s body – you’re suddenly reminded of the other thing you wanted to do – and actually _succeed_ at doing, too – which was get ahold of that tool for your brother.

Then you can safely say you’ve made some sort of effort (and you can tell Stacy her theories stink) and you can hopefully rest a little more comfortably when it inevitably does nothing and you have to wait for your brothers to save the day anyway. Which they… surely will, at some point, even if three days is starting to grow a little excessive, and especially so for the two of them.

It isn’t worrying you. It really, really isn’t.

Breakfast passes as smoothly as anything might – you’re finally starting to get the hang of generally just functioning with your brothers’ stepstool to supplement your abysmally low height, fetching the cereal from the top cupboard and the milk and anything else you need.

Mom asks you why you’ve taken to eating your sister’s cereal, and you also remember to not refer to yourself in first person, instead mumbling between bites something about being given permission by her. Which you technically were, given that ‘her’ is you and you’d certainly give _yourself_ permission to eat your own cereal.

And then they leave, as they do every day – Mom to the Squat n’ Stitch (yet again) and Dad to work, and the house is left empty once again. The door hasn’t even so much as shut behind them and you can already feel the urge to get to busting rising back up in your gut. You could do that, too, perhaps – though you don’t know what your brothers are gonna get up to yet, you still could.

Not doing so might well drive you crazy, so there is that.

But there are other things you have to do first, and you’re also relying on Phineas and Ferb to get your body back, too. So that is… that’s out for the time being, you dejectedly tell yourself. (Seriously, you’re not sure what you’re gonna do with all this spare time. You could call Stacy or something, but without busting, what are you supposed to talk about, anyway? There’s… Jeremy?

But Stacy gets irritated with you if you ramble about just Jeremy for too long, so you try not to do that as best you can help it.

Thinking about busting does make you feel a little more guilty about the idea of trying to get your brother grounded again, though, when you can see how it’s affecting him _now_. Which in turn translates to you stopping by  ~~your room~~ his room (but only for now, of course) before you go back out to the sewer facility.

At least he’s going to be ungrounded the day before his birthday, right? So that’s… that’s nice. You inform him of this, and he smiles cheerily and generally acts just about like you’d _expect_ from him, except also a little… different, too. You’d hoped that going in there to say hi would’ve made you feel _less_ guilty, but it ended up doing exactly _not_ that, actually.

So you cut it short, telling Phineas that _today_ you’re going to get his thingy for him for sure – because, well, what other option do you have? And he jumps up and thanks you far too enthusiastically for something that you’re doing because you have to, and hugs you so tightly you swear you can hear your ribs breaking and it kind of starts to hurt.

“Phineas – please – let go-” you gasp. “Seriously, I – you’re kinda – ow!”

“Oh, no, sorry!” He scrambles back, looking mildly mortified. “Oh, oh, I’m sorry! I’m just – I’m not quite used to how _strong_ you are yet. It’s… a bit of a learning curve, if I’m being honest.”

You rub your arms ruefully. “Whatever. Just… not so tight next time, okay? I mean, I don’t squeeze _you_ that tight, do I?”

“I… guess not, no,” he admits. “Though you do squeeze pretty tight.” He flashes a smile. “It’s nice, though, all snug and warm. I kinda like it, to be honest.”

“Uh huh.” You glance at the alarm clock on your nightstand. “Well, I’d better head out. It’s nearly ten and I have a…”

“Left-handed flange tuner.”

“…yes, one of those. One of those to get. Candace Flynn is _out_. Peace.”


	11. Escalator Down

One thing that sticks out to you when you wake up the next morning is just how much bigger Candace’s bed is than yours. Even though you’re in her - larger – body, it’s still so much bigger.

Well, not _that_ much bigger, maybe, but it’s actually really nice. Maybe one day when you get back to your own bed you’ll make it a bit bigger, too, ‘cause you could really get used to this.

Yawning, you sit up and stretch, eager to face…

… face the day.

It’s not until you’ve sat up straight in the bed that the memory clicks in your brain again. Grounded. You’re grounded – and that means, of course, that no matter how much you want to, how much you wish you could, you can’t leave the room.

Another day inside your sister’s room. Yesterday was… well, it was something. Perhaps not quite so bad as you’d been expecting, overall. Candace actually came in and you two shared the bed (there was plenty of space, her bed really _is_ quite spacious, to be honest), and afterwards you read. A lot – a _lot_ a lot. The entirety of the twenty-eight volume novel you and Ferb wrote, as well as some other books and magazines that Candace had lying around. You took all the quizzes in her magazine – the one quiz informed you that your ‘True Teen Identity’ is apparently ‘Emo Teen’, but you’re not quite sure what that is.

And you’re not technically a teenager anyway.

You also read Candace’s fan fiction that she writes sometimes, which was definitely more interesting reading than the fashion magazines, and so that was fun. (You didn’t realize she was such a good writer – maybe you ought to tell her that specifically at some point.) You also cleaned up the room and tidied vanity and dresser drawers, neatly arranged the cables in her box of random wires and adapters, organized the shirts in her closet from ‘most wrinkled’ to ‘least wrinkled’, ironed all of the ones in the former category, (and the latter, just for thoroughness' sake), cleaned out the air vents, patched the holes in the walls and put on a fresh coat of paint, reupholstered the carpet, changed the lightbulbs, motorized the windows, dusted the furniture, oh yeah, and tried to switch bodies back through the new-and-improved Switcher, which utterly failed due to some… unforeseen complications with persistence of memory.

And then you ate lunch, and the second half of the day began.

It’s not to say that it was, like, the _worst day ever_ or anything, but it was just very… so very tame. And you don’t generally do well with tame. It’s kind of the opposite of a lot of the things you like to do – go outside, invent, hang out with your friends – all things you can’t do. Couldn’t yesterday, can’t today, can’t for the next, well, nine days now.

At least Perry hangs out with you a lot. That’s nice. You probably gave him more attention yesterday than he’s gotten in the rest of summer so far combined, but you’re sure he likes it, judging by the way he’d lift his head and chitter at you.

He’s a cute guy, for sure, though he doesn’t do much. He is a platypus and they don’t generally do much anyway, so it’s to be expected.

Candace comes into the room at some point just a handful of minutes after you wake up, and reminds you about your birthday coming up, which is definitely exciting. It certainly was enough to lift your spirits, especially considering the day you have upcoming. After she leaves, you look at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and are shocked to see that it’s already almost nine o’clock. Nine o’clock! And you only _just now_ woke up!

You never sleep in this late – you didn’t set Candace’s alarm (you completely forgot to, to be honest) but you never sleep in this late even without your alarm.

Maybe you should be thankful – it’s two hours closer to that elusive tenth day expiring, right? And you have some more stuff you already know that you wanna do today too, right after you eat breakfast. There’s some troubleshooting and reworking of this new theory that Ferb and you discussed last night, and there’s major revisions to be done to your operating theory of how this whole thing happened, too.

Plus you did notice that Candace’s bed frame squeaks a little bit when you roll over to the right side, so you’re gonna fix that, too. And there’s this massive pile of stuff in her closet that’s super, like, all dusty and it has these little battery-powered candles and tons of pictures of Jeremy and what look like drawings of Jeremy and… you aren’t sure what it is but Candace’ll probably appreciate if you clean it and dust it, so that’s gonna get done, too.

Other than that, you… don’t have any other ideas, really. Which is – well, you’re not going to say it isn’t _daunting_ , because it kind of is, really, but you’ll figure something out. There’s always something to do, and just because you can’t leave Candace’s room doesn’t mean you can’t try to make it the best day ever.

You’re not as sure of the emotion as you’d like to feel, and when you smile into Candace’s vanity mirror, there’s something there that isn’t quite right, but it’ll do for now. You are at least thankful that Candace hung out with you last night and came in to say hi this morning, because you’d been feeling a bit guilty about getting so angry with her after what happened the day before yesterday.

An apology is probably in order, but you haven’t quite gotten around to it yet. She just… she just lost her temper is all, and, hey, it happens to everyone. It happens to you, at least, so who are you to blame her for it? She didn’t deserve how angry you got at her, not really. Because you were _mad_ – it felt like… a bit like someone who you love deeply just turned around and hurt you for no visible reason and that’s admittedly a bit melodramatic, but it was how you felt at the time.

It’s probably for the best that she didn’t come in until later that night, honestly, because the last thing you’d have wanted would be to yell at her, and the way you were feeling then, it… well, you aren’t proud of it, but it might have happened. There was a chance – a good chance, even, and _that_ would have definitely been something you’d have regretted doing.

And she didn’t come in until later, and by then you’d had plenty of time to calm down and think things through more logically. Though you still couldn’t quite grasp _why_ she’d done what she did, why she got you in trouble for something you didn’t do, why she seemed so mad at you in the first place. And… to be honest, you… you know why.

Just a case of losing her temper. It’s cool, really it is. You’ve never really… well, Candace is certainly very energetic, but she basically never gets mad at _you_. It’s really an odd feeling, and you’re just glad you didn’t make it worse, glad you understand what happened, and – most of all – glad that it’s over.

Except for your ten days of groundedness, which are very much _not_ over. Except for the ten percent of those ten days that was wrapped up in yesterday. That part is over, and there’s only nine more to go. Maybe less, even, if you get switched back before then, but then _Candace_ would be grounded, and though she seems mostly okay with it, you don’t want that – want _this_ – for her, either.

It’s a bit of a catch-22, really.

Still, it being a catch-22 is similarly not going to keep you from trying to have great day, grounded or no.

Ferb comes in for a bit shortly after Candace leaves. ‘For a bit’ - like two hours, you realize after you check the clock when he leaves. You talked about all sorts of stuff, ranging from blueprints to ideas to ideas about how to solve this, to Candace’s room to Candace’s body that you’re in to Candace herself.

(Speaking of her did remind you that, while you’re in her body, you have to put on deodorant and acne medication and that fungal cream, too. Which is a good thing, because you’d almost forgotten to do it again.)

And so you set about to making as good use the time as you can figure out how, even within the four walls of Candace’s room, cleaning up and tidying things (the space under her bed is really _so_ cluttered that it surprises even you a little bit) and making everything nice and neat and even borrowing a tip from Baljeet and color-coding it all, too, because it’s not like you don’t have time for it.

Candace’s laptop in here, too, and though it’s not as fast as the computer downstairs, you don’t think she’d mind if you used it for a while – especially since you use to work out some blueprints and stuff more easily in the digital space than you could if you had to sketch them all out on paper. There are… issues, even so, though – it’s quite strange, because the data that Ferb and Baljeet’s new machine collected is all contradictory-looking, even though it obviously _can’t_ be.

For a few hours you work at it, while eating lunch, too, and in the end, you… probably shouldn’t claim there was visible progress, really, because you still haven’t figured out exactly how to get all the contradictory readings to mesh, no matter what equations or formulas you throw at them. It’s a bit confounding, if you’re being honest, so you eventually capitulate for the day when Ferb arrives in the room with your share of the day’s pie.

The pie is good, as it would be, and he seems very impressed with all the things you’ve done with your time in Candace’s room, too. You exchange theories again, and he tells you about the other things that they did in the afternoon – mainly working on an old blueprint for super-speed-shoes, which apparently went really well, too, something you’re glad to hear.

Later on, Candace returns as you’re in the middle of idly drawing some random stuff on paper that Ferb brought you from your desk.

She slumps inside, panting heavily, covered in dirt and dripping wet, and bangs some metal thing down on the vanity. “You’d better appreciate this. Your body is _so_ out of shape, I swear.”

You blink, at first not sure what she means – you really appreciate anything she does for you – but then you get a second glance at the thing, and your eyes widen.

“Is that-”

“-a 'left-handed flange tuner',” she finishes the sentence for you. “Yes, yes it is. Have fun, I guess.”

“Oh, oh, awesome!” you exclaim, springing up and catching up the tool. Gripping it with your _left_ hand, too – and wonderingly staring at how it so perfectly accommodates your fingers, letting them fall neatly around the grip without the awkward way the handle used to stick out in the tuner you’ve been using up to this point. “Thanks so much, Candace! This is amazing – you’re the best sister ever!” You spin around and hug her tightly – trying to not hurt her any this time, of course – “it’s perfect. They only make these specially _for_ the sewer repair crews, you know?”

She blushes a little, and you let go when she squirms, not wanting to squeeze too much again. “Yeah, sure. You – you have fun with it, I guess.”

“I definitely will,” you assure her, hefting it in your hand. “It’s so great. Thank you so much, honestly, like… it’s amazing. Finding left-handed tools can be so _hard_ sometimes.” Though to be quite fair, If you had a nickel for every time Candace did something nice for you, you don’t know what you’d do with all that money – you don’t really know where you’d even start counting.

“Yeah.” You let go, and she backs away a step or two, face still a bit red, looking down at the floor. You wonder if maybe she’s dropped something down there, but there doesn’t seem to be anything – and you would know, given that you spent so long cleaning her room until it was completely spic and span. “I… well, I was hoping that maybe it would do something, you know?” she continues. “Maybe switch us back to being normal. I’ve helped you, right? You’d – you’d _hope_ it would work, at least.”

Ah, yes: Candace’s theory about this whole thing. Which is… well, under other circumstances you might wonder about its potential scientific foundation, but at the same time, you were the one who spent almost six hours today fighting with those numbers and readings and couldn’t get them to go together any which way you tried. And no idea is bad one, really – not until you’ve tried, at least.

“Well, maybe it’s just waiting for my half, then?” you suggest. “You got me this – and it’s _awesome_ , by the way – and now I just have to finish being… well, grounded, I guess? Because that would be good for you, right?” You’re sure it would – after all, who _wants_ to be grounded? Surely no one. You can’t imagine any other possibility, and you definitely wouldn’t want to put it on your _sister_ , of all people. You’ve seen how much she likes hanging out outside and doing stuff and you’d not want to keep her from being able to do that.

“I… I guess so, yeah,” she mumbles. “Though it’s a bit late for that by _now_ , I think. I was supposed to have a date with Jeremy _today_ , at that family reunion or whatever they had, and I completely missed it. If the whole goal was to make me do _that_ , well, it’s already been achieved, hasn’t it? Pagh. Sorry Jeremy, Candace couldn’t make it. She was _grounded_.” You stare at her, and she stares back for a minute and sighs. “I – I guess it was my fault, but still. It _sucks_.”

“At least you’re not grounded?” you offer, smiling. “There’s always a bright side, right?”

She smiles in return, though more faintly. “I… I guess so.”

“Come on, it’s not so bad,” you reply. “It’s just my body for nine more days, after all, and what are the odds that we won’t be able to figure it out before then anyway? Between Ferb and Baljeet and me, I’m sure we can get something worked over the next couple days.”

“You’re more confident than I am,” she says. “But… sure, sure I guess. ‘Not so bad’ - not when I can’t use the bathroom or shower without feeling like gouging my eyes out. Though I guess you’ve got the same experience there too. Wonderful.”

You shrug. “It is what it is – I mean, we did switch bodies, after all. It’s just part of the… package, right? We could’ve seen it coming when it first happened.”

“Doesn’t make it any less _bad_ ,” Candace mutters. “But I guess so. I – I’d honestly rather not talk about it anymore, though. Or think about it, either.”

Which is a fair enough notion, and not one that you can call yourself fully opposed to, either. You talk for a bit longer, and she eventually leaves to go hang out with Stacy or something – she didn’t seem very explicit about what she was gonna do – and you’re back to being by yourself.

All in all, it’s not the _worst_ way to spend your time, you guess, though it wouldn’t be your first choice. If you had a choice. And since you don’t, you make the best of it that you can as the days till your birthday – which will be the first ungrounded day – begin to slide by.

You sleep in a lot, both because Candace’s body seems to naturally want a lot more sleep than you’re used to, and because, well, there’s not much else to do. You read a _lot_ – by the fourth day you’ve read every book in the house, and Ferb’s started making trips to the library specifically to get fresh material for you. The fourth day is also the day when you decide to do something about the annoying way in which Candace’s long hair keeps getting in front of your face.

She seemed a little bit hesitant when you asked, but eventually gave you permission, and you gratefully trimmed it down to a length much more familiar and comfortable for you, just above your ears. You’ll admit that it does take some getting used to – looking into the mirror at your sister’s face and seeing her hair so short, and Mom and Dad both seem a bit surprised by it too, but it really is just so much easier and more comfortable that way.

You determine to make it up to Candace, though, for letting you cut her hair like that, so you spend a day building a special machine to help apply her acne medication much more thoroughly and evenly than someone could do by hand, and much to your satisfaction, it works flawlessly.

What doesn’t work flawlessly yet – or work at all – is any of the theories you or Ferb or Baljeet or anyone seem to be able to create in your effort to solve the puzzle that is your and Candace’s swap in the first place. The constant frustration of your efforts becomes almost routine over the course of the next week or so, which is definitely one of the less pleasant things that have become routine.

You’re quite accustomed to handling your sister’s height and strength – heck, it really is nice in some cases – and there’s not enough of a difference in the clothes she has to really require any sort of ‘getting used to’ at all. Pockets – though – her skorts only have the two pockets, which is mildly inconvenient, but not too bad since you can just leave stuff piled up on the vanity anyway (it’s not like you have anywhere to go, after all).

At least you and Candace spend a lot of time together. You wonder if it’s because she feels guilty about having lost her temper, and try to assure her that it’s not necessary for her to try and make it up to you, or whatever, because you do understand, but she insists, and you surely won’t complain. You _do_ really enjoy spending time with her, and you play a lot of Skiddley Whiffers while you’re at it. Even if you lose a lot - ‘cause she is _good_ at that game, like seriously good – but Candace is always so happy about winning that you can’t help but be happy, too.

All in all, for being grounded and unable to leave your sister’s room – for being in your sister’s body and unable to figure out _why_ , exactly, or even how you’ll be able to switch back, it’s not such a bad week after all. Mom and Dad seem happy – and even once or twice congratulate you on how well you’re getting along with your brothers, something which… well, to be honest, that’s still one thing you don’t fully understand, because you never really thought you had any issues getting along with Candace in the first place?

You’re quite confident that she really _is_ the best big sister you could have, whether because of the way she’s always trying to make sure Mom and Dad can see what you and Ferb do, or when you just hang out and play games and talk or just… just because, really – there’s not any better way to explain it that you know of. And though it’s kinda funky looking at her and seeing your own face, it’s what’s on the inside that counts at the end of the day, and, hey, you’ve always got Candace’s theory of joint-life-improvement to fall back on at the end of the day, right?

One afternoon Candace comes into the room looking a little bit worried. “Phineas,” she says awkwardly, not looking at you directly.

You raise one eyebrow. “Yeah?”

She fidgets back and forth a bit. “Well, there’s – there’s only a few more days until you’re not gonna be grounded anymore, you know?”

This is true, and you have to admit, you’re quite excited for it, too. Not to say that being in your sister’s body for so long was half so bad as you were expecting – it really wasn’t, to be quite honest – but it’ll still be nice to be able to sleep in your own bed again after so long. (Though to be fair, the ‘ own bed’ thing is really more the fault of you being grounded than you being your sister anyway.) Still, it’ll be nice to be… well, to be yourself again, though you’ve gotten quite used to being Candace by now so it’ll probably be another adjustment when you do switch back, too.

It’ll still be nice.

“I hadn’t forgotten,” you say, smiling. “I don’t think I _could_ forget, to be quite honest – and if I did, well, all I’d have to do is look in a mirror, right?”

“Right,” she replies. “And then I just gotta wait for my hair to grow back, too.” She looks mildly rueful for a moment, and for a split second you wonder if maybe you should offer to build some sort of… super-hair-growing ray or something of that nature, but she shakes her head and moves on before you get the chance. “Anyway, what I was gonna was, well, it’s been like a.. like a _week_ since I’ve really talked to Jeremy or… you know, been a girlfriend. I’ve seen him, but I’m you, so it doesn’t actually work, you know? And I – I don’t know, Phineas, it’s just… this is really weird.”

She stops, and looks so downcast that you set down your latest book and slide off the bed to, well, kneel next to her, so that you don’t tower over her quite so much. “Something wrong?”

“Gosh, I look weird with short hair,” she mumbles. “Sorry, I – I still haven’t quite gotten used to that.”

You’re at least _fairly_ sure that your hair and the length of it isn’t what’s bothering her, but you nod anyway. “Well, it’ll probably be your hair again before too much longer – and don’t worry, it’ll grow back. Hair… finds a way.”

“I know, I know.” She shakes her head. “Okay, honestly, here it is: I… I haven’t talked to Jeremy in so long, you know? And he hasn’t talked to me, since you’ve been me and you’ve been grounded and I don’t think, I mean, what if he just… doesn’t like me any more? I never really did figure out exactly why he liked me anyway – I meant to ask at some point but haven’t really… gotten a good chance.”

You frown. “Well, there’s plenty of reasons to like you – I’m sure he’s got plenty, too.”

“Right,” she snorts. “That’s… nice, I guess? But I can’t count on that – I’ve got to be realistic about this. For goodness sake’, Phineas, I haven’t been _myself_ for the past week, and that’s a whole week that Jeremy and I, we’ve barely even _talked_ , you know? And I’m supposed to be his _girlfriend_ , and wow, I surely ruined that one, didn’t I?”

“I mean, I _am_ being realistic?” You’re not sure why she thinks you aren’t. “There’s plenty of reasons to like you?” You could even name a whole bunch right now if she wants you to – it’s not something you typically spend much time thinking about, but you don’t exactly to have think _hard_ about it, either. “You’re smart and pretty and, like, _really_ strong – I could lift your whole bed earlier when I was organizing underneath it, and it wasn’t even that _difficult_. And you wrestled that alligator, too, which I guess is a more impressive feat, but you get my point. But you’re always hanging out with Ferb and I, and even trying help make sure that Mom and Dad and everyone get participate in the things we do in the yard, and you’re-”

“If only you knew,” she mutters under her breath (which makes no sense at all that you can tell) while holding up her hand. “Okay, okay, Phineas, I get the point. It’s just too bad that I’m dating _Jeremy_ and not _you_ , I guess – because whether or not all of that – or any of it – is true, I’ve gotta get _him_ to think it. Which is something else entirely from getting my _brother_ to think it.”

“Well, it should be easy, though,” you say, grinning. And it should be – if Jeremy Johnson is half as amazing as she talks about him being, then you have no doubt he’ll easily see all the many things that make your sister so great. “I’m sure he’ll understand if you just explain what happened, with the switch and-”

Candace shudders like she’s physically cold and you act on an impulse – you don’t even know where it comes from – and scoot next to her, putting your arm around her shoulders. (Maybe it’s some sort of built-in bigger sister instinct that was left behind in Candace’s body that can still influence even your actions a little bit? That seems like it could be reasonable.)

She looks up at you weirdly for a moment, and shakes her head. “No, no, I can’t do that. I just… I can’t, Phineas. I’ll – I’ll just have to cope with whatever happens after you’re ungrounded.” She sighs. “Hopefully _then_ we’ll switch back, too. Haven’t you made any progress on that?”

Now it’s your turn to shake your head, and though you try to remain optimistic while doing so, there’s a certain air in your tone that you wouldn’t quite describe as such that you couldn’t fully root out, either. “No. It’s quite strange, really. Every time we think we have a formula nailed down, the variables keep changing, and there’s no apparent reason or pattern to be found… at this point, we’re kinda just throwing stuff at a wall to see what sticks. It might be barometric pressure that’s affecting our readings, or solar plasma radiation, or maybe neutrino interference? Honestly it’s difficult to say. There’s not much more we can do than keep running tests until something comes back conclusive.”

She sighs again. “I figured as much. This – this sucks.”

“It’s not ideal, no,” you admit, after a moment’s hesitation. “But look on the bright side! There’s – well, you don’t have to be grounded. And that’s always nice, right?”

“If we hadn’t switched, no one would’ve gotten in trouble in the first place,” she mutters angrily. “Except maybe I’d have busted you then, so who knows what would’ve happened after then? Guess we’ll never know for sure.”

“I… I’m not sure?” you echo, not entirely confident you heard her correctly. She doesn’t seem inclined to repeat herself, though, so you let the subject drop – it must’ve not been that important a one anyway. “But I’m sure it’ll be okay in the end – it always is, after all.”

“Yeah, sure. For _you_ , I guess.”

You raise one eyebrow. “What?”

“Just… just nothing.”

The conversation returns to more ordinary topics from that point, and though you don’t have that much to talk about, given that you haven’t been able to do too many exciting things recently, it’s still perfectly interesting to listen to Candace talk. She goes on for a while about her fan fiction after you tell her that you finished everything she had written and you asked her if she was planning on continuing it at some point. And she tells you more about Jeremy, too – more than you’ve ever heard about him before (which is definitely saying something), and you have to admit that Candace does make him sounds like a really nice guy.

She halts in the middle of an impassioned speech about the color of his hair to say that she couldn’t help feel that he’d been growing more… boring to watch from behind the potted plant at the mall, that she kept finding herself looking for something else to do, but you guess that’s understandable anyway.

Truthfully, if he wasn’t taken, _you_ might go out with him, as you tease Candace lightly – but you’re actually kinda half-serious about it, which surprises even you, to be quite honest. Obviously suddenly being in your sister’s body isn’t going to change who you’re attracted to, but you’ve never really felt _attracted_ to anyone anyway – there’s never been anyone around to be attracted _to_ , really. Still.

Candace laughs at the joke, though, and it makes you feel a bit warmer on the inside to hear her laugh like so, especially after you’re sure this whole time has been quite stressful for her, at least judging by how much she talks about it and the ‘fallout it’s going to have in her relationships’.

Which you suppose you can partly understand, because no one wants to miss out on talking to their friends for so long if they can help it, but at the same time, it’s only ten days, and you’re still not sure why she’s determined that she oughtn’t tell Jeremy about what happened to you and her.

She probably knows best, though – that much you’re definitely ready to admit. After listening to her talk about it like she does, you’re ever more convinced that she’s got it all quite figured out – and much more so than you think you could manage.

Later on that evening, though, something happens that’s very… curious. You’re just getting out of the shower, and as you were drying yourself off, happened to catch a glimpse in the mirror of your own – well, Candace’s own, but that’s a bit beside the point by now – back. Now, this wouldn’t normally be so unusual (that’s what mirrors are there for, after all) but what catches your eye mainly is this huge red welt of some kind that’s marked deeply just below the right shoulderblade.

It doesn’t hurt to the touch – indeed, you hadn’t noticed it’s existence at all prior to just now, but it is pretty bad-looking even so. Obviously something hit Candace, and it hit her _hard_ , too – probably not terribly recently, but you like to think that you’d have noticed if something this bad had happened to her? It probably hurt really badly when it first happened, and you know you don’t want your sister to get hurt like that.

(Honestly, you’re not sure _how_ she got hurt like that, even.)

Maybe you didn’t notice it before because her _hair_ covered it, though – and now that it’s nice and short, it’s not concealed anymore. That’s logical, though still concerning, since it still means that something happened – and not a little ‘something’ – and you somehow completely missed it.

Candace’s reaction when you ask her about, though, is stranger even than the mark itself is. Her eyes widen, and then narrow, and she then rolls them, all while varying degrees of blush and paleness flicker over her cheeks. “So you noticed,” she finally says, all dry and very, very casual.

You have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Noticed what?” you ask curiously. “The mark, you mean? Of course I noticed it – it’s really, really big. Unless you mean why I didn’t until just _now_ , which… well, I figured it was probably because it was mostly covered by your hair, and then I trimmed it and it wasn’t covered anymore? And then I still see it for a while, but that’s – it’s mostly because I don’t really pay much attention to the mirror when I get out of the shower?” You never have, really – you’re not really tall enough to see very much in it, and though that’s obviously not true anymore now that you’re in Candace’s body, old habits still die hard.

It’s the same ‘logic’ behind why you keep catching yourself standing up and getting ready to head out of Candace’s room to your own – why you eventually had to tape that note to the back of Candace’s door to remind you that you _are_ Candace, for now, and that while that’s case, this is your room, and the room across the hall is hers, and not the other way around.

But Candace just kinda… snorts. “Yes, that’s what I meant, Phineas. No, that’s not what I meant! Ugh, I swear, you’re so blind sometimes.”

“Wait, what?” you echo, starting to get confused. That’s what she meant… except it’s not, and you’re not seeing something, apparently, but though the look on her face makes it seem like it should be obvious, you rack your brain and really just can’t come up with anything at all. “What is it, exactly? What am I not seeing?” You laugh for a moment. “Is it, like, something I’ll remember as soon as you tell me, or…”

“I would be surprised,” she cuts in. “Since you never seem to really pay attention or care that much in the first place.” She snorts again. “You certainly weren’t there in Hawaii, were you?”

The mention of the Hawaiian vacation just makes the whole thing even more baffling. Unless-

“You’re not talking about that whole bad-luck-charm thing, are you?” you ask. “That wasn’t even a thing, really, remember? It was just a table placeholder for that mountaintop restaurant or whatever.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember _that_ ,” she says. “And did you never wonder why I never, I don’t know, never showed up to _eat_ at that restaurant with you? Or why I didn’t get back to the hotel until everyone was asleep, or, maybe – just _maybe_ – it crossed your mind to be curious about why I didn’t _move_ for the entire plan ride back, not even to use the bathroom? Why I _limped_ the entire way on board the plane, and then didn’t move for the next _nine hours_?!”

The intensity in her voice and the way she’s staring into your eyes takes you back a little bit, like you should feel _bad_ for what you’re about to say – but, honest to goodness, you didn’t… you didn’t really notice anything quite so strange as all that she said. You weren’t paying very much attention, to be fair (and airports especially are super distracting because there’s so much cool stuff to look at and do), but you _do_ feel like you would have noticed if something was really wrong?

Still, you can’t lie, so you answer anyway – though perhaps a tad less confidently than you might otherwise have. “No?”

“Of course you didn’t,” she mutters. “I didn’t expect anything else, really.” She throws her arms up and her eyes flash dangerously for a second. “Well, lemme break it to you, since apparently you just _don’t notice_ when bad things happen to me: I got _hurt_. It was _bad_ – I fell down the entire freakin’ _escalator_ , you know? Oh, wait, no, you don’t, do you? Well, now you do.”

Your eyes widen a little bit. “You – you fell down the _escalator_?” She rolls her eyes, which is _not_ the reaction you’ve had expected, to say the absolute least. You fell down the stairs more than once right after you and her had first switched bodies, and to call it ‘unpleasant’ would be the understatement of the year, right there. And the stairs are _carpeted_ , too – you can’t imagine on an escalator, especially not the one from the mountaintop restaurant in Hawaii, because that was a _tall_ escalator. “When did that happen? Why did you not say anything? Where were – where was _I_?”

“Where were you?” she retorts. “Where were you. Oh, that’s rich – you were having a good old time up there with Ferb, I guess, or doing whatever, while _I_ was falling down the escalator. Down the _upwards_ escalator, mind you. The _upwards_ escalator, Phineas.” She leans forward intensely, her eyes boring into yours like she’s trying to see directly into your mind. “Do you _know_ how long I fell?” she says, her voice having dropped to a throaty whisper. “Do you _know_?”

You lean back a little bit, and hesitate for a little bit more – but there’s only one answer, really. “N – no?”

“Of course not.” She crosses her arms in a huff. “You don’t know _anything_ , do you? I fell for _hours_ , Phineas. _Eight hours_. Eight hours – until the restaurant closed at one in the morning – and then they turned the escalator off and I finally reached the bottom, and let me tell you something straight – you think falling down our carpet stairs hurts? You don’t know _anything_ – nothing at _all_. It took me like an hour before I could even _move_ after that, let alone _walk all the way back to the hotel room_. All by myself, might I add. All-” and she suddenly pauses, her voice abruptly cracking “-by myself.”

You have no response.

Like… literally, you have no response. You’ve never been so horrified in your entire life, you don’t think, and you don’t know what you _could_ say, really. You’d not even considered the possibility of such a thing happening – Candace is… well, she’s _Candace_ , right? You’ve never seen her really get hurt, not that you can remember? Well, there was the time earlier this summer when she broke some bones – said it was in some kind of skateboarding accident? – but even that was… well, accidents happen, after all, and there wasn’t really anything you could’ve done to help that anyway, considering that you and Ferb and everyone else were off flying around in the _Paper Pelican_ at the time, far away from Jeremy’s house (which was were it had happened.)

Even so, she hadn’t seemed to be very much… well, in pain, maybe? You know it had to hurt – breaking bones always has to hurt, right? – but she herself later told you that she didn’t really even feel anything until afterwards and that it didn’t actually hurt as bad it seemed like it should.

“Oh, quit looking so bug-eyed,” she interrupts your thoughts while you’re still struggling to parse her last sentences. She was _hurt_ , _badly_ , for a _long time_ – and you were _right there_ , and you could’ve – you could’ve _done something about it_ , too, but you… you didn’t. And the day afterwards, maybe, but you were too distracted watching airplanes or whatever you were doing at that airport and your sister was suffering because of it? It’s – it’s – you don’t know what to make of it. It’s like your brain has shut down entirely.

“Come _on_ ,” she groans. “Snap _out_ of it, Phineas. It’s not like it was the _first_ time, after all.”

You blink again, feeling a bit like someone just dropped a grenade directly into your brain. “Say – say _what_? Not the – not the first time? Wh – what do you mean by that?”

“What do I mean what I do I mean?” she repeats. “Phineas, if you would take your eyes off your stupid projects for two seconds one of these days you’d realize that you’re only hurting everyone with them, and pretty much every time, it’s _me_ who gets hurt, you know? It’s not even an uncommon thing – no, it’s literally, like, every freaking day with every single stupid thing you do.”

What?

“I – I didn’t mean to _hurt_ anyone?” you say dully. “I mean, we take all the precautions poss-”

“Yeah, well, precautions shrecautions,” she shoots back. “It never helps _me_ , know. Didn’t help me when I got struck by lightning or fell off that cliff or hit in the face with all those fish or dragged down the pavement by those stupid chariots or got hit by-”

She goes on for far longer than you’d have thought possible, listing incident after incident that you really and truly knew nothing about. Of all the things you could have pictured going wrong with you and Ferb’s projects – not _this_! Never this – and most of all, not your _sister_! You couldn’t bear to see her hurting, but the things she rattles off as happening to her only keep building up and your heart keeps sinking lower and lower with every new one you hear.

“Candace, I – I’m sorry,” you manage, feeling just about more brokenhearted than you can ever remember feeling. “I – I had no idea...”

“Of course you didn’t – you never do,” she replies. “I don’t expect it anymore.”

“But – but no!” you protest weakly. “You should expect it! I – I’m your brother, and I love you, and I don’t – I don’t want _anyone_ to get hurt because of our projects, but you? No, no, no, no, no!” You’re starting to panic a little bit, if you’re being honest. This is too much new information to take in, it’s too many memories you’d thought were happy being tainted all at once with the realization that _Candace_ , your very own older sister – the one who you’ve always considered special to you – wasn’t enjoying anything that happened.

Wasn’t enjoying because she was _suffering_ , right under your nose, from _your_ inventions. And what were you doing? You – you were too distracted to notice by those very same inventions! You can’t even sit still anymore, thinking about the awful truth, and you jump to your feet, pacing anxiously around the room, running your hands desperately through your hair as you seek some sort of answer or explanation or _something…_ but there is none.

“Oh – oh, Candace, I’m so _sorry_ ,” you say, your voice cracking as you turn back to your sister. “I – I don’t know what to say, but I – I’m sorry! I didn’t know – I didn’t know, and I _should_ have known, and I – what am I supposed to _do_ with this?!”

What _are_ you supposed to do with this? You hardly even know – your mind isn’t even working at all at this point, and you’re just mumbling incoherent (even to you) sounds under your breath as you pace around the room.

There’s one thing you _can’t_ do anymore, though – that much you know for sure. You can _not_ , and you _will_ not, hurt Candace, not ever again, not if there’s anything at all in your power you can do about it. You have to blink rapidly to keep tears from spilling out onto your cheeks at the thought of your very own precious sister suffering all those terrible things, all because of _you_ , the brother who is supposed to love and support her, not – not _hurt_ her! That’s – that’s not okay.

It’s not okay, and you can’t allow it anymore. You just can’t, and if –

if…

if that means that you can’t invent anymore, either, well…

It only takes a single glimpse of your sister sitting there on the floor, watching you as you pace with a curious expression on her face – the sister _you hurt_ so many times, when she deserves nothing but your _love_ , and your mind is suddenly made up. Your fists clench.

_Then_ _so be it_.


	12. Conniption

You aren’t quite sure what’s happening – you’re watching it, that’s for sure, but you still aren’t confident even so.

This past week or so has been a… very uneventful one, all things considered, which almost worries you, because living in your brother’s body shouldn’t be _uneventful_ , of all things, but… after a few days, the shock and stuff, it kinda wears off on you.

The novelty’s long gone, (not that you were ever interesting in the _novelty_ anyway, though it was at least good for keeping you distracted while having to suffer through things like showering or using the toilet), but even such things can only last for so long before they gradually become routine, too. You’re both relieved, because it means it doesn’t dominate your thoughts so much, and worried because… well, because it _doesn’t_ dominate your thoughts so much. When it obviously _should_ be repulsive and make your skin crawl every time you have to relieve yourself, but that’s… well, that’s _every time_ you have to so much as use the bathroom, and you just don’t feel like expending the energy over it anymore.

You’ve spent a _lot_ of time with Phineas over the past few days, too, which is – it’s a lot because you still feel guilty about getting him stuck in there in the first place (which is pretty much the reason why you grudgingly agreed to letting him cut your hair in the first place), and then there’s the added factor that you really don’t have much else to do, which can leave you feeling… awfully listless at times.

Stacy’s there, of course, and you’ve also talked to her more in the past week than you have in the past month combined, you’re pretty sure, but you’re also starting to run out of things to talk _about_ , too – you’ve gotten the feeling from somewhere that Stacy’s growing tired of your talking about how much it  sucks not being able to go out with Jeremy or bust your brothers or… well, you don’t really talk about much else, to be honest.

It’s just a subtle feeling you have, really – mostly from the time yesterday when Stacy looked at you and said, “Candace, please, can we talk about _anything_ other than Jeremy or your brothers? I mean, I get you’re irritated, girl, and I know this whole… body… switching thing? Yeah, it’s plenty weird. But there are other things we can talk about, you know? Why don’t we go out and _do_ something? It’ll take your mind off… you-know-what, I bet.”

And so you’d relented, and gone along, and it had been… alright. Which, again, is both good and bad. The ambiguity about these things is kinda starting to drive you nuts by this point. Then Phineas noticed the mark on your back from the escalator, and a few questions later, things are getting increasingly out of hand, and you’re not really sure what to make of it.

You’ve never seen Phineas look so… distressed, you don’t think, but his eyes are wide and he’s pacing and murmuring frantically under his breath as he runs his hands through his hair over and over again. Okay, maybe it’s the slightest bit gratifying to finally, _finally_ see some sort of reaction over what’s been happening to you – all the pain and suffering you’ve endured at his hands, all the things their stupid inventions put you through on an almost daily basis. (Except for the past week, really, but that’s mostly because you haven’t really been able to bust like you’d like to, either.)

Then again, you hadn’t expected a reaction like _this_. Phineas looks… absolutely mortified beyond belief as he turns to you again.

“I – I didn’t know,” he repeats for what has to be the dozenth time in as many minutes. “Why – how come you didn’t say anything? To me, or Ferb or – or anyone?” He’s getting increasingly distressed as he keeps talking, and you lean away a little bit, not exactly _intimidated_ , per se, but getting more and more uneasy even so. You’ve – you’ve never seen him like this, and it’s distinctly unsettling – there’s that strange sensation of butterflies in your stomach again. “You could’ve said something!” he continues breathlessly, waving his arms about. “Anything, Candace, I mean, I – I don’t want to hurt you! I never wanted to – to do _that_! I – I can’t… I mean… I don’t…”

He stops abruptly, and kind of just… falls to his knees in front of you, a strange look of desperation in his eyes that you’ve only seen once or twice before – on that island in the middle of the Atlantic being the most recent time – his chest heaving so quickly that if you didn’t know your own brother better than this you’d almost say he was hyperventilating.

You’d say it because it does look awfully like it – and sound like it, too – and you of all people would recognize that sound when you hear it, even if it’s actually coming from someone else this time.

Above all, though, the panic there is – it’s frankly undeniable. It’s undeniable and that freaks you out because you don’t know _how_ to help people stop hyperventilating (you know what works for _you_ , but is it always the same?) and it freaks you out because if _he’s_ freaking out over it then it means he really and truly had no idea – not that he didn’t care, but that he honestly didn’t _see_.

And just that he’s Phineas – and Phineas doesn’t freak out. It’s not what he does. It’s just… it’s just not!

“Okay, okay, Phineas,” you say awkwardly. “Look, it’s, I – it’s not such a big deal, is it? Like, you know, there’s no need to get so riled up over-”

“Not such a big deal?” he cuts you off to echo – though he isn’t ‘cutting you off’ so much as just ‘talking past you’ anyway. “It – it _is_ a big deal, Candace! It’s a big deal to me! I – I – I just wanted to have fun and build cool stuff and now it’s like – it’s like… I was _hurting_ you by them and I could’ve stopped but I didn’t _know_ and I – I – why didn’t you tell me?! I would’ve – I would’ve done something! I would’ve stopped, would’ve made sure it didn’t happen again, would’ve – would’ve – would’ve-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Phineas, Phineas,” you repeat, holding up your hands. “Look, look, just – just calm down, okay? The hyperventilating thing, trust me, it doesn’t help. Do you – do you need one of my paper bags or something?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just – I’m just kinda having trouble processing this right now!” he laughs, all high-pitched and squeaky as he presses his hands against his temples. “I would’ve _stopped_ , Candace. I – I’d never want anything bad to happen – not to you! I don’t – if you’d just _told_ me something, I could’ve ended it – I could’ve done something, anything, to bring it to a _stop_! Instead, you said nothing and I… I… I…” Well, he’s not _hyperventilating_ anymore, so that’s a good thing? And that horribly desperate fire slowly dims in his gaze as he stares at you and stutters. Dims and dims and dims and… okay, it can stop dimming now, it’s kind of freaking you out. It keeps going, though – and going and going, until he, your _brother_ , looks positively…

… depressed?

“I – I’m so sorry, Candace. I – I never meant anything by it. I just… I wanted to have fun, you know? I didn’t realize that it was… not that. For you. I… I shouldn’t have.” He shakes his head, looking more downhearted than your brother ever should.

“Phineas,” you start, not sure what you’re going to say, exactly, but well aware that you’ve got to say _something_ even so. “Look, it’s-”

“No, no, it’s _not_ okay,” he interrupts you again – though you wonder where he got the idea that you were going to tell him it was okay in the first place. “It’s _not_ okay, Candace. It’s the opposite of that – but don’t worry anymore.” He smiles, thin and sad, looking a bit like he just lost his only friend. “It – it  won’t happen again. I – I _promise_.”

You raise one eyebrow. “ _What_ won’t happen again, exactly?” You’re all fine with believing that he might fully mean the promise, but you’ve also gotta be realistic about things like this, too – and with your brother being as oblivious as he is, you know good and well that even the most serious of promises by him will be lost as soon as he gets to building another one of his stupid-

“The – the inventing, I mean,” he says, his voice getting unnaturally quiet. “It was just to have fun, you know? But if it _hurts_ you like that, I… can’t. Not in good conscience. It – it won’t be fun for me, and I know it’s never fun to be hurt, and … well, what would be the point, then?”

… what?

In fact, you’re so baffled by the statement that your mouth drops open and the only thing you can think to say to cover it is the same thing you’re thinking. “Whhhaaaaaaa…?”

Phineas looks at you strangely. “What is it?”

He – he – you _did_ hear him correctly, right? Of course you did. It’s just you and him in your room, and though your room doesn’t have the best acoustics as far as bedrooms go, you’re sure it’s not so bad as distort sound that strongly. Which means… but how? Why? And most of all, _what_?

That’s – that’s it?

Just like that? It’s – it’s nigh-incomprehensible to you. Isn’t this what you’ve been after all this time? It didn’t come attached to busting, as you’d always thought it would (and thought it had to), but now? Because you told him how much his contraptions go crazy and hurt you? And – that’s _it_? Just like that?

Wait, shouldn’t you be, like, exhilarated over this right now?

“I – I’ll keep trying to come up with some sort of thing to reverse our switching,” Phineas says softly. “But no more. I couldn’t stand it, not now, not knowing… what I do.” His shoulders droop. “I just wish you’d told me sooner, so that more of this could’ve been avoided.”

“I… yeah?” It comes out as a question, mainly because you’re still having trouble making sense of anything right now, especially after coming down from Phineas’ rollercoaster of an emotional ride that he went on right in front of you, and then this getting sprung on you right at the end.

You’re not sure why you _didn’t_ say anything, to be quite honest. Eh, that’s not quite true – you have… you have reasons. Mostly because you have to go to your brothers enough for times for help that you don’t feel like doing it when it’s not _absolutely_ necessary. And once it’s all over, (and you’ve failed, because that’s what always happens, isn’t it?) you’re generally in kind of a stink and don’t feel like talking about it, either.

And, of course, there’s the fact that… well, you – you don’t always pay as much as attention as you maybe should when you’re with their inventions anyway? Like, you’re aware that – as much as it seems it – Phineas and Ferb never… _specifically_ set out to hurt you, it just… happens, from their dangerous contraptions and your own bad luck, and you’re so busy trying to bust them and get Mom to see what the boys’ve done that it – it can be distracting. (Busting is hard work, seriously.)

But if you – if you’d wanted to get your brothers to stop letting their inventions hurt you, well, it… you know they’d ask you what happened in the first place, and you know their inventions are dangerous (and they are, obviously, because they hurt you), but it… well, they don’t really leap out and grab you, either.

It’s a complex situation? Yeah, yeah it is. And it’s just… easier to not say anything about it – plus they never brought it up, so you just assumed they didn’t care anyway. Which was easy enough to assume, all things considered.

Except apparently they didn’t _know_ , and now Phineas’s gone and freaked out over it and said he’s going to quit inventing and you – you frankly don’t know what to make of it. Which is somehow even more disturbing than your brother’s panic attack was, because _darnit_ , this is kinda supposed to be exactly what you wanted – what you’ve wanted since day one, like, however many years ago it was when you first realized just how important busting had become in your life?

And it’s – it’s not as satisfying as you’d always thought it would be. Not as satisfying, and you feel all – all conflicted, over something you, Candace Flynn, should _never_ be conflicted about. (Darnit, why does this keep happening to you all of the sudden?! Can you have _nothing_ , not even a freaking _goal_ , for goodness’ sake?)

“I love you, Candace,” Phineas whispers. He sits down next to you and puts his arms around you – you flinch, ready for another ribcage-cracking hug, but it’s… just a light squeezing instead, one that is not unpleasant, actually – or at least wouldn’t be, but you can feel Phineas’ arm shaking slightly where it crosses your back, and the butterflies in your stomach are back, keeping you from relaxing and why, oh why, are you so conflicted about this – about this which should be your finest hour and moment of victory?!

“I – I love you too?” You do, you really do, but you still can’t keep that blasted uncertainty out of your voice, either. (What is _wrong_ with you all of sudden?)

“Has – has anything happened since we switched bodies?” he asks softly. “To – to you, I mean?”

You hesitate, not sure what to say – but in the end find yourself quite thankful that you can actually answer this question, at least, relatively honestly. “No – nothing’s happened.” Surely _this’ll_ cheer him up, right? Or at least get him to stop acting so panicky and uncomfortable? You would – you would really appreciate that right about now. “It’s been… very… boring, I guess? I haven’t really done much of _anything_ , to be honest, aside from those times we tried your guys’ machines to switch back, which didn’t feel great, but that was only twice anyway, so I – well, I could take it.”

“Yes, of course,” Phineas murmurs. “The two switchers. And nothing else… because we – we haven’t done anything big except work on theoretical stuff for switching back all week. There’s been nothing else, and you – you’ve been safe. Because we weren’t doing anything co-” he pauses for a moment, his voice faltering as if it’s physically paining him to enunciate the words, and you can feel his arms trembling a bit more as they’re wrapped around you. Another time you might push him away and make him let go of you, but you… you’re honestly not sure if that’s a good idea right now. He seems very, _very_ distressed and you don’t like it one bit, so if he wants to hang onto you like some kind of living version of a teddy bear, then fine. Whatever.

“-dangerous,” he finishes. “Anything dangerous.”

You’ve pretty much _never_ heard that word out of your brother’s mouth before, and it sounds just as alien as you could’ve expected. Maybe more so, because the tone he’s using is not you think you’ve ever heard before, either.

You thought you’d seen him the most downcast your brother could physically be when you got him grounded, what with how withdrawn and melancholy he’d been, but this is – this is something entirely different. There’s not really a word you can think of to describe it.

_Shattered_.

He looks absolutely shattered, as if his entire world has just been torn from it’s foundation with hardly a warning at all. You’ve seen the look in your own eyes before, as you looked into the mirror, taking that raw desolation shining from your features, the last time you got dumped – before you met Jeremy -  and that… that sudden relatability that crops up in your gut isn’t the helping the situation.

He looks like he might start crying, and you’ve never been more uneasy in your life.

“Look, uh, Phineas,” you lie, a last desperate effort to try and make him feel better. “It’s not – wasn’t that big a deal, really. I – I-” you can’t even believe what you’re about to say, but you also can’t believe the reaction he’s having to this, either. “I mean, Isabella and Buford and all _them_ never got hurt, so I guess it wasn’t really your fault, it was, uh-” Wait, who are you about to blame here? If not Phineas or Ferb, then who?

… you hadn’t thought this through as well as you should’ve, apparently. Because there really isn’t anyone else to blame, not if you don’t blame them. Which you – well, it’s always seemed the natural thing to do? But if you _don’t_ blame them for it, it only leaves one real _logical_ option, being yourself, which you – you never really contemplated trying to do before? It feels … it feels strange.

_You_ to blame for the bad things that happened to you? That’s – that’s not possible, is it? No, of course it isn’t. You try to bust them (well, partly) so that you _won’t_ get hurt, right? And it doesn’t even matter that much, because you don’t have to, like, really believe it, but as long as it makes Phineas feel better, right?

(And besides, you weren’t busting when you fell down that stupid escalator in Hawaii, right? You hadn’t even been busting that day, like, at all – the exact opposite, even, you’d just been trying to get rid of that stupid restaurant thing or whatever it was.)

Still, you – you don’t like thinking about the idea of this all this somehow being your fault. It’s not even _really_ why you bust – you bust, and it never fails in that _something_ happens to you as try, which… well, it hasn’t really happened since you stopped, but that’s – that’s not really _because_ of anything specific, not really, it’s just, uh, it’s just-

“It’s not,” Phineas says, his voice suddenly breaking into your thoughts. (It’s something you’re secretly a little relieved for, though at the same time it also makes you feel stupid, because aren’t _you_ supposed to be the one comforting _him_ right now? You’re really bad at it, that’s for sure.) “It’s not okay. It _was_ my fault. I – I should’ve been paying more attention. I – I…” His voice trails away, and he abruptly lets go of you, standing up and looking absently into the wall behind you. “I need some time to think.”

“Wh-what?” you stammer. “Phineas, look, it’s – it’s not like that, please just-”

“Candace, _please_ ,” he cuts you off. “I – I have to think. I c – can’t do this right now.” He points to the door, and for once you’re not just irritated about being kicked out of your own room. He looks so absolutely broken that you daren’t refuse his request, even though you don’t exactly _want_ to leave him alone, either. Still, what _are_ you supposed to do?

You stand there, indecisive, and he puts his hand down on your shoulder, turning you around and pushing you towards the door – gently, perhaps, but still with more strength than you can hope to resist in your brother’s measly body.

“Phineas...” you protest, but you’re already out of the room, and the door shuts firmly behind you. You turn around and try the knob. It’s locked. “Aw, come on, Phineas! I didn’t mean it! I – I – I...” There’s no answer, and you turn around and slump back against the door, sliding down to the base and landing with a thump on the floor, holding your head in your hands.

Well, _fine_ then. If he wants to freak out about it, then you’re not going to try and stop him. He wants to be like that? Be like that. You were just trying to be _comforting_ or whatever, and he’s the one who boots you out? Fine then. It’s not like you’re _required_ to keep trying, after all. Besides, he’s _Phineas_. He’ll get over it in a couple minutes – he always does, after all.

It’s not like you don’t have your own issues to deal with too. You’d wanted to try and head over to Jeremy’s house and see if you could get him to agree to another date with you, to give you another chance – one that _you_ can actually take, one after the term of Phineas’ grounding expires, and the Mysterious Force (hopefully) recognizes that he’s done something for you and switches you two back.  
  
(Because that _is_ gonna switch you back, right? Stacy seems to agree, and since your brothers haven’t yet been able to figure anything out, it’s all you have to hope for. You’re setting yourself up on a ledge here, but it’s the only place you _can_ set yourself up, or else you fear for the intactness of your own sanity.)

You’ve as yet refused to consider the potential consequences of this ledge, too, failing.

You stop in the backyard to see what Ferb and Baljeet are doing, only to be disappointed yet again – the two of them, along with Isabella and Buford, are messing around with some fancy gadget in some far corner under the shade of the tree. There’s a pile of papers near the sliding glass door, and you kick carelessly at them, revealing the sheer amount of scribbles sprawled all over them – covered in symbols and letters you don’t understand in a whit, except for the lines striking through sheet after sheet, the frowny-faces marking line after line after line.

The kids wave to you, and you wave back, but as you head out of the house and down the street, you’re feeling very listless indeed. Very listless and very… very small. The universe itself – the Mysterious Force, it’s what’s getting to decide your fate, and it’s deciding for you. You don’t have an ounce of choice in the matter, not really.

And neither does your brother, exactly, but he’s at least got the option of cutting back his hair to feel more comfortable in your body, and what do you have? You’re still gonna be so small and _weak_. Not even physically – though that’s true too – but in the grander sense, too. All you can really do is hope for the best, and you’re fast running out of hope to give.

Jeremy’s house is a different sort of sight in the morning, after you’ve not laid eyes on it for so long. Not laid eyes on _Jeremy_ for so long. It’s – it’s kinda intimidating, to be honest, because you’re not sure how he’s gonna be able to forgive you, not for this. What if he’s already found another girl – someone better than you?

(He wouldn’t have to look very far.)

Still, this is the only option you have left to you, really. What else are you going to do? Be alone forever? Live with your family forever? You’re not sure which of the options is worse than the other, to be fair.

You do your best, then, to swallow your fear and worry as you cross the porch and ring the doorbell. You can’t even reach the stupid doorknocker, but at least the _bell_ is low enough that you can. You wring your hands nervously as you wait, and a nervous laugh forces it way from your throat despite your best efforts to stifle it.

The door opens.

It’s Jeremy, himself, in the flesh.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, why did you decide to do this, this wasn’t a good idea, you never should have come-

“Phineas?” He raises an eyebrow inquisitively.

Oh, wait, that’s right. You’re not _you_ , at least not to him. You’re Phineas. Right. This – this kinda helps, a little bit, actually. There’s not really a need to be _perfect_ , at least not right now. Anything you do to screw-up just gets laid on your brother’s tab, after all. You clear your throat, feeling a bit more confident at the realization.

“Yeah, uh… hi? Jeremy?” You wave a little, smiling in as close an approximation of your brother’s habit as you can muster up on a whim. “Can I, uh, come in?”

He seems a bit confused for some reason, but shrugs. “Sure, I guess. Come on.” He steps out of the way, motioning you inside. “So… what’s up?”

Right. This is the whole tricky part, isn’t it? You walk in silence until you reach the couch, which you haul yourself up on, then turn to face him again. He looks mildly surprised to see you do so – you guess it’s probably because your _actual_ brother has… has he even been over to Jeremy’s house? Probably once or twice, but not very often, either.

“So, uh, Jeremy,” you start. “I… was thinking, after and-”

“Jeremy?” a voice suddenly comes from just around the hallway corner, practically at your arm before you have a chance to react. “Who’s at the door? Was it… Candace?”

“Agh!” you yelp, jerking away, raw terror flooding your brain in an instant as Jeremy’s little sister appears at the arm of the couch, with her little black deathball of a dog trotting at her heels. “You stay away from me!”

Jeremy’s eyes open wide. “Phineas? What’s wrong?”

Suzy glances over at you, her ice-cold eyes, so full of hatred and harm, almost instantly melting as they land on you, her face cracking into a wide, toothy smile that’s not any more reassuring than the smile of a crocodile. “Bubbles!”

Her poodle yaps happily, lolling out its tongue at you, it’s tail wagging as it runs in circles around its master.

“It’s just Candace’s brother, Phineas,” Jeremy says. “I – I’m not sure what for yet, but I’m he’ll tell us soon?” He smiles down at his sister, and you can’t restrain a shudder. You have to admit, the little girl’s act is _convincing_ , and you don’t quite so much wonder how she manages to fool anyone, but it doesn’t help you feel anymore at ease, either. You _know_ what’s under there, even if she doesn’t know that you know. You _know_.

“Upsies!” Suzy cries, stretching her arms up to her brother, and Jeremy picks her up, swinging her up into her arms before he sits down on the couch across from you. Instinctively you cower back away from him – from Suzy, unable to keep down the surges of fear that course through your gut at her being so close to you. You can’t but thinking that at any moment you’re going to look over at her and she’s going to have another knife in her hands, or can of spray paint, or anything else at all.  
  
Anything else, now that you’re only just over _twice_ her height. She’ll – she’ll probably kill you, won’t she?

“Is… is something wrong, Phineas?” Jeremy asks again, and it’s only just then that you realize how badly you’re shaking. Suzy looks at you, too, her face marked only by innocent concern and curiousity that you know good and well is entirely fake. Only the faintest glint of understanding is twinkling in her eyes, but you know perfectly well what’s hiding behind her mask.

“Bubbles!” she declares exuberantly, and you shiver again.

“It’s – it’s – it’s nothing. At all. I – I’m fine. Just – just cold?” You rub your arms and try to smile again. You can relax, right? Suzy thinks you’re Phineas. She’s not going to hurt you. She thinks you’re Phineas. She’s not going to hurt you. As long as you don’t blow your cover, you’re going to be okay.

_As long as_ , and Jeremy surely knows that the way you’re acting now isn’t anything like how your brother acts. You’ve got act normal – the way you would if you _were_ yourself. You’re not going to be in this body for much longer (at least, you desperately hope you won’t be), but you’ve gotta try to make _some kind_ of a good impression while you’re still your brother. Otherwise he’s gonna think that you’ve got a _weird_ brother – the kind who obsesses about what his sister is doing on dates for no reason – not to mention that if you can’t get him to agree to this date _now_ , while you’re acting as Phineas, then you’d… you’d have to come over here once you get switched back. As _yourself_.

You’re not sure if you’re ready to face Jeremy as yourself again, it’s – it’s so much _work_. And that’s not even considering _Suzy_ , whom you try to avoid thinking about as much as possible anyway, but it’s not easy. Phineas wouldn’t have to study your body too hard to find bruises that _she’s_ left behind – though you hope to high heaven he doesn’t actually do that, because that’s – that’s _certainly_ not something you need happening right now, on top of everything else you’re having to deal with.

“It’s – it’s Candace,” you say nervously. “Well, it’s me. I, uh… I…” You know what you have to say, for one – you have to apologize, but it’s a lot harder than you intended. You don’t _like it_ when you have to talk to Jeremy like this, it’s – it’s bad, it lets him stop and think about how much of failure you are. You’d much rather smooth it over and try to make him forget about it somehow. You don’t actually have to worry about that now, because he thinks you’re Phineas, but gosh darn it, it’s hard going against the habits that you’ve tried so hard to establish. “Look, I – I’m sorry. I was all… you know, weird, back then, wasn’t I? On ou- you and Candace’s date last week."

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Well, I wouldn’t say _weird_ , per se, but it was… not how I knew you felt?”

“Right, right, that,” you continue hastily. “I’m – I’m sorry about that. I was just… just trying to help, kinda? And I – I realize that was a bad thing. I did it in a bad way. So I mainly was just… wanted to know if you’d – you’d try again? Like – like I promise I’ll stay out of the way this time, really I do, but Candace, she’s… she’s…” well, you can’t exactly make _yourself_ look like the blubbering incompetent fool you are in front of him, can you? “-she’s upset at me for ruining things and really, really, really hopes you’ll still go out with her?”

Jeremy bounces Suzy up and down on his knee a little bit, and smiles bemusedly. “I don’t see why I wouldn’t, really? I mean… it’s nice of you to come over to apologize, so thank you for that, though. Your mom told me she got grounded, I believe, when I went over there the other day?”

You grimace. “Oh, uh, yeah. It was… nothing, really. Nothing.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask any farther (which he wouldn’t, after all – he’s Jeremy, like the perfect boyfriend anyway, right?), even though _Suzy_ ’s facade momentarily falters as she shoots you a suspicious glance that’s gone a single split second later, before you have time to so much as open your mouth to point out the brief lapse of character to her brother.

(Which isn’t something you should probably be trying to do, anyway, because you _really_ don’t want to try and rock the boat anymore than you absolutely have to right now. Things are bad enough as they are without you making them worse – and you’ve had more than enough experience to realize that that’s just what you do. It’s just what _happens_ when you try to fix things. They end up worse. Somehow.)

“Well, it’s none of my business anyway,” Jeremy decides calmly, seeming to shrug off the news as easily as water off a duck’s back. Of course, there’s no way for you to tell whether he _really_ doesn’t mind as much as he seems to, or if even now he’s internally wondering just what kind of a loser you are to get _grounded_. A big fat loser, that’s what kind, and your job is _supposed_ to be keeping him from realizing that inevitability, which is a lot harder and more exhausting than it looks, than anyone at all gives you credit for.

“So you will go out with her, then?” you ask, in a probably-transparent effort to distract him from whatever thoughts he may or may not be thinking. “I mean, like, you can’t now, obviously, because she’s still grounded, but after Phi- my birthday here soon, she won’t be, and you can go out _then_ , heck, even on that day, right? That could be-”

“Phineas,” he cuts in, raising one eyebrow. Instantly you freeze, terrified of what you could’ve done wrong this time, and not wanting to somehow ruin everything even more now at the last moment.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you think that this is something I ought to be discussing with your sister, hmm?” He’s smiling, but his voice is not exactly phrasing the sentiment as a question, either, despite the good-nature still oozing from his expression. “Look, man, I can understand you getting… worried, maybe? You want to make sure your sister’s okay. Maybe you’d rather her hang out with you guys instead.” He shrugs easily. “It’s cool, I promise. I can get where you’re coming from. And I’ll promise on anything you’d like that I’m not trying to come between you and her, you know? It’s not like that. Heck, if you ever feel like that, you _should_ point it to me, and I’ll do whatever I can to fix it. I don’t want anyone to be unhappy because of this, and I’m sure your sister wouldn’t want it either.”

You swallow. “R – right.” Actually, you’d never really considered that – this whole ‘coming between’ thing… nor does it seem like it would be such a big deal anyway. Jeremy is _supposed_ to be your buffer, sort of, between you and all the insanity your brothers unleash. Not that he does a very good job of that, but that’s more your fault than his anyway. You couldn’t just let them go unchecked, it wouldn’t be… right. It’d be admitting defeat, consigning yourself to being the ‘crazy one’ forever, and you _can’t_ live with that. You just can’t.

“That’s good,” Jeremy says soothingly, and for a moment you forget yourself and feel a rising urge to scoot over next to him and lean into him – though an askance glance from his sister quickly drags you back down reality and sends you huddling into the opposite arm of the couch again, all the while trying to as _little_ like you’re huddling as possible. (Is it even possible that she’s creepier like this when she’s outright attacking you? Somehow it is, and you don’t know why.) “But if that’s the case, then I also think that Candace’s and my business ought to be discussed by me and Candace, don’t you?”

“Of course, yes,” you return, balling your fists. “I… of course.”

“Good.” He nods. “I do appreciate you coming over, though – the other day had me… a little bit on edge about all this. I’m glad the air is clear between us again, and as soon as your sister and I get a chance to talk again, I trust we’ll be able to set things between us right too. Still, that’s between Candace and I, not me and you, don’t you think?”

“Mmm hmm, sure,” you return, not even trying to avoid acknowledging the bitter irony anymore. Your entire life has basically all become part of this sick joke by now, and you’re just trying to stick it out until Phineas’ grounding is up and you can get switched back. Then _you_ will be the one behind the wheel of your own life again (at least in some sense). Of course, it’s … it’s worrying that Jeremy apparently thinks there’s something between you and he that needs setting ‘right’, but you can’t even ask him what that might be, really.

It’s probably _something_ , though, something else that you’re going to have to deal with upon becoming yourself again. As horrible as it sounds, the thought occurs to you that maybe you should be glad Phineas-in-your-body was grounded, right? After all, it _is_ keeping him far away from Jeremy, saving you from having too impossible a standard to measure up to when you get switched back… of course, the flip side to that is that it _is_ keeping him away from Jeremy, and it’s not just some minor lapse of time, either, but _ten whole days_.

It’s okay, though. It’s okay.

(It’s not okay.)

If you just stick out these few remaining days, then you’ll get switched back, and you can start working on fixing everything again. As long as nothing else happens, you just might be able to manage this. It’s – it’s not that much longer to wait, is it? Not really, just a few more days. Phineas will be himself, you’ll be yourself, and everything can go back to normal.

Of course, that means you’re going to have to deal with _Suzy_ again, but that’s – that’s nothing new. You’ll figure something out. Or you won’t, and you’ll just sit there and take it, because that’s all you ever do, because that’s you _can_ do, and you don’t even want to _think_ about that because you’re just barely no longer having nightmares about the time she got ahold of those steak knives.

Jeremy invites you stay longer and ‘maybe hang out’, but you don’t really feel like it, much to your own mild surprise. Then again, it’s not that you don’t feel like it at _all_ , but being there with Suzy also there is… too terrifying for you to really be at ease with anything, and you don’t think you had a chance to breathe at all until you’re finally out of the house and down the street.

_Keep it together, Candace_ , you think. _Keep it together. You can manage. The worst is surely over, right?_

It has to be, right? Only a few more days, Jeremy is at least superficially okay with your brother again, Phineas can’t get into more contact with him, so you don’t have to worry about him screwing things up anymore. How much worse than things possibly get?

And then, true to your life, you arrive at home a handful of minutes and get a large faceful of exactly how much worse things can indeed get. It’s Mom who does the honors this time, the worried look on her face already worrying you before she even speaks.

“Do you know what’s bothering Candace?” she asks, almost immediately after greeting you.

You blink at the sudden question. “What?” And it’s not even so much that she’s addressing you and speaking of you in the third person simultaneously – that you’ve gotten pretty much used to by now – but her tone of voice and… well, everything, really. “Wrong with Can…”

And then it hits you like a ton of bricks.

Mom quirks one of her eyebrows upwards. “Something wrong?”

“It’s – it’s nothing,” you lie on instinct. This was… not something you anticipated having happened. Things are supposed to go back to _normal_ , and this… this isn’t normal. You can remember all too clearly the look on your brother’s face when he more or less shoved you out of your room… and it wasn’t normal, not at _all_.

Mom looks skeptical for all of maybe half a second, before turning away. “Maybe it’s a puberty thing,” she says finally. “I don’t know, but it’s got me a little worried is all.”

A dart of resentment pricks at your heart, as you realize just how _seriously_ Mom is taking you right now. This is… this is the sort of thing you’ve always wanted to have, but have never been able to manage to maintain, at least not with her. You don’t _mean_ to resent your brother over this (and especially not right now), but darn it if it’s not freakin’ hard sometimes.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Right.” Thankfully, Mom leaves you alone before too much longer, and you don’t have to worry about keeping your eyes firmly fixed on anything except her face. It’s not… it’s just… you… you still don’t know how to make heads or tails of this whole thing, and the guilt just feels like it’s crushing you from the inside out for some reason, despite _you_ being the last person on Earth who should be feeling guilty right now.

You were the one constantly getting hurt, after all. You should be _elated_ that you’re not going to have to go through that anymore. Because you won’t, right? Phineas and Ferb’s inventions… those _were_ the things that hurt you. Clearly.

You _know_ this. You don’t need to question it, it _isn’t_ up for any kind of debate. But if that’s as true as you know it to be…

… then why do you still feel so rotten inside?


End file.
